Thunderstruck
by Piratica
Summary: Two girls hiking in England suddenly find themselves on the Wendigo episode of Supernatural. Now they're stuck in season one's little world of horrors with no foreseeable way out... But perks of the job include Sam, Dean, and a certain 1967 Chevy Impala.
1. England

Kali and Christine

"So how far are we from this stone circle again?" asked a grumpy Kali, hooking her fingers in the straps of her pack and lifting the weight off her shoulders.

"We're almost there," answered Christine, her camping partner and best friend.

It was a dreary day in the Lake District, typical whenever anyone planned on taking a camping trip or hiking up a mountain in the middle of England. Kali and Chris had been trekking uphill since early morning, seeking out a stone circle hidden in one of the valleys. They could barely see the summit through all the fog, but it was there, and just over that was their destination.

"Don't know why we came back to this country," muttered Kali, struggling to force another leg up the hill. Chris was about to answer smartly, but before she could an old couple passed them up, giving hearty smiles and a "good day to you" wave. Both girls smiled politely in return.

"How do they do that?" grumbled Chris once they were out of earshot.

"They don't carry a thirty pound pack on their backs."

"Oh, yeah."

They were both, in fact, American, having returned to England for a visit before finishing college and getting on with their lives. Not too long ago, they had lived "across the pond," and had gone on many camping trips together while in high school. Despite the mutters and grumbling, they enjoyed hiking immensely and had stayed close throughout their higher education for want of better camping buddies.

Less than an hour later, they reached the crest of the peak and began walking along the ridge. Suddenly the clouds broke, and lo and behold, the stone circle was about two hundred meters downhill, marked by a ray of sunlight. Immediately they began the descent, not bothering to rest at the top. They only had a few hours of daylight left to get to their campsite, and both planned on spending some quality time with some ancient Celtic history on the way.

The circle consisted of jagged, uneven stones sticking out of the ground, standing imposingly as the two girls approached. Kali paused just outside it while Chris went straight on to the center. She looked up at the sky and squinted. Strangely, there was a single break in the clouds through which the sun kept shining – right into the middle of the circle. She shrugged it off as just the typically odd English weather and turned her attention to the giant rock beside her. There was a symbol scratched into the stone less than a centimeter deep, though hardly thousands of years old. It looked more as if it had been made yesterday. Not only that, but there was a dark red tint around it. She lifted her hand to trace the scratchings, but was distracted when Christine called her over.

"Come look at this," she waved.

There was an even stranger sight to see in the center of the circle, where a thin wisp of smoke rose from what used to be an open fire. Around it were tiny pieces of bone, and an unpleasantly pungent smell hung in the air.

"I thought open fires were illegal here?" noted Kali.

"They are." Chris nudged one of the bones with her boot, frowning.

"Sheep bones maybe? There's always some around here."

"Wouldn't doubt it."

There was a red spot on the grass, as if someone had spilled something. Kali leaned down and touched it, rubbing it between her fingers and squinting at it thoughtfully. She could have sworn it was blood, but didn't believe it until she sniffed it.

"It is blood!" she exclaimed.

"What the hell," said Chris. "You sure it's not spray paint? It's all over the place."

They both backed up and looked at the ground, and sure enough it was covered in lines of red. Strange and eerie symbols seemed to center around the fire, and Chris recognized them aloud as something pagan but couldn't guess their meaning. Another circle in the grass closed them in. If they didn't know any better, they'd say it looked like a ritual ground.

"Okay, this is really creeping me out. Let's get out of here," said Kali, and Chris quickly agreed. But as Kali turned to leave, her boot wedged between two stones on the ground and wouldn't give, forcing her off balance. She tried to recover quickly, but the pack was too heavy and her weight was all off-balance. With a shocked cry she fell sideways… and didn't get up.

"Kali?" Christine called, concerned. When she didn't receive an answer she rushed over to her friend. She gasped and knelt down, staring at the great gash in Kali's head. The blood dripped onto the ground and the sight of it put her in a momentary state of panic. The sun disappeared, and drops of rain began to fall, getting heavier with every passing second. Chris put a hand on her and shook her, but nothing happened. A flash of lightning cracked the sky and thunder boomed overhead, and the wind picked up rapidly.

"Oh, please God, don't let this be happening," Chris prayed, trying to pull herself together to figure out what to do next. She knew what she was supposed to do, but the weather…

She turned her head to the sky to see how dark the clouds were, but the force of the wind turned the rain into needles in her eyes. Another flash came, this time striking one of the stones nearby. The crash was deafening, and Chris covered her ears in pain, doubling over in a protective ball around herself and Kali. Then came another flash, which hit another stone, and another flash and another – so quick and relentless that she just closed her eyes and waited for the end.


	2. Colorado

**Chapter 2** – **Chris's POV**

I woke up huddled over Kali and shivering. I was dripping wet, but the sun was shining warmly through the branches and there were birds chirping in the trees.

It took me a moment to realize just how many things were wrong with these observations. I knew English topography and it didn't include trees. I also knew English weather and _that_ didn't include sun – or warmth. And English birds were never this noisy.

Where were we?

"Kali," I murmured, shaking her. "Kal, wake up. Please wake up." I turned her face away from me and saw the purpling, bruised cut on her temple. "Shit." Well, at least it wasn't raining anymore. I slid Kali's backpack off of her and put it under her head as a pillow, then dug around in my bag for my first aid kit. While I patched her up, I perused through my options. I could call 999, but I couldn't figure out what I'd say to the person on the other end. I couldn't tell them where I was, since this was obviously no stone circle in the middle of the Lake District. I could tell them where I'd been, but for some reason I didn't think that would help me much. Upon closer inspection, some of the trees had poison-oak growing up their trunks – a plant that I knew grew only in America.

"Shit," I said again, and pulled out my phone. This was my old phone, the one I'd kept since high school as a sort of keepsake. It only worked in Europe – and maybe Asia, but I'd only ever been as far as Israel and I'd never had a chance to check. Anyway, the point was that if I was truly in the states again, the phone would not receive a signal – thus preventing me of a conversation I both longed for and dreaded. After a quick moment of reflection, however, I figured the embarrassment of being thought crazy by some anonymous person on a phone was incomparably preferable to watching my friend die, so I turned the cell on and waited.

And waited.

"Shit!" I muttered for a third time and shoved the phone in my pocket. Now I was really incommunicado. I hadn't wanted to leave my laptop in the car Kali and I had rented for this trip, and both of us agreed that GPS's were cheating so we hadn't even thought of bringing those. Now I didn't have my cellphone, either, and I was lost in some American forest. I could be _anywhere_.

I pointedly ignored the fact that I had traveled thousands of miles in the blink of an eye. Wondering how I got in this mess would not get me out of it. All I could do now was to wait for Kali to wake up. I finished bandaging her head and began setting up our tent. It took me about half an hour, but I finally got everything in place: Kali and her bag inside and dry (the sun really helped there), sleeping bags for Kali and me, extra bandages for Kali, and snack food within easy reach. I'd even got out the giant "survival bag" that was for keeping warm in 0°C weather or whatever, but I couldn't see how much good that would do considering how nice the weather was.

I stood outside the tent and thought. I could go to sleep and forget everything for a few hours and when I woke up Kali might be awake, or I could go off by myself into the unknown forest to get my bearings and/or find help. I knew which one I preferred – if only because I'd get to sleep a little more and escape all this for even a short while. But what I desperately wanted to do and what desperately needed to be done were two very different things. Kali was hurt and I was alone – and we both needed help.

I wrote a note to leave to Kali and sighed, resisting the urge to crumple the useless sheet of paper into a ball and throw it at a tree. I hoped she would read it – that would mean that she had woken up and I had one more head to work with. On the other hand, I couldn't trust that she would actually stay in one place once she had read it. I knew_ I_ certainly wouldn't, not after realizing I wasn't in England anymore. That was why I told her where I was going. But if I came back without any help and she still hadn't woken up, I didn't know what I would do. I didn't want to think about it.

I shouldered my pack and set off quickly, counting my steps under my breath as I went. Speed was of the essence here, and I knew I would want to walk faster than three kilometers an hour. In fact, I walked two kilometers in thirty minutes before I remembered that I'd told Kali in the note that I wouldn't go half that distance. _That was a stupid promise,_ I thought, but turned back anyway because I hadn't found anything in the first place.

That's when I heard the shouting.

"Help!" A hoarse voice called. "Help me!"

People! I started toward the voice before realizing that I'd have no way to get back to Kal if I didn't leave some sort of trail. I suddenly wished I hadn't left my M&M's in the tent, but I grabbed my zip lock bag of mixed dried fruit and used that as a trail, Hansel and Gretel-style, behind me as I went.

"Somebody help me!" the voice called again. It was closer this time. I sped up, but misjudged a step and tripped over a moss-covered log, falling flat on my face on the other side. Luckily, the ground was also moss-covered and didn't hurt too badly.

"Ugh…" I groaned, pushed myself up, and clambered over the log. My head throbbed once or twice while I brushed myself off, but it cleared up quickly enough. I looked up. Five people stood on the ridge in front of me: one girl and four guys.

"Was that you?" the oldest guy, who had a rifle, asked.

"Um," I said, staring at the tallest one with the shaggy hair, "The calling for help? No. It wasn't. Who are you?" I started backing away slowly, looking at them one by one. I didn't recognize the kid, the girl, or the man with the rifle, but I'd recognize the two other guys anywhere.

There was a slight pause, then the girl said, "I'm Haley. This is my brother Ben, our guide Roy, and, uh, Park Rangers Dean and—Sam."

"_What_?" I tried to take another step backwards – a big one this time, because this was _totally_ out of my hands now – and tripped over that log _again_. I sat down, lost my balance, and rolled heels over head off the back of the fallen tree. I ended up with a face full of leaves and another lump on my head.

"Oh my gosh, are you all right?" Haley rushed over and helped me up.

"Uh—fine, fine," I mumbled, trying to bat away her hands as though I was brushing away dirt and leaves. "Where am I?"

"Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. Near Lost Creek," Haley said, stepping back – and _not_ tripping over that goddamned log, I noted.

"_Where?_"

"Lost Creek," she repeated.

"_Colorado_?"

"Yes," she said, confused.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I did this a few times, actually, before Sam said, "What was your name again?"

"Oh," I looked at him, winced and turned back to Haley. "I'm Chris. Chris Adams. I'm – oh, god, me and my – I mean, my friend and I – we were hiking and we, uh – she hit her head on a rock and she's – I mean, we got lost and then she hit her head and she's out cold—"

"Where?" Roy the Rifle Guy asked sharply.

"Er – um, about two kilometers from here." I pointed in the direction I'd come from. "I heard the shouts and came running over. There should be a – a trail. Of apples. And, um." I stopped. "Peaches."

"What?" Dean asked. He looked like he was trying not to smile.

"I made a trail. I didn't have anything else to find my way with." I took a deep breath. "Look. Kali's bleeding and she needs help. We're totally lost, anyway. Please, just – just help us." I tried to ignore the look that Sam and Dean exchanged when I mentioned that Kal was bleeding, and failed miserably.

"All right," Sam sighed. "Let's go back to camp and get our bags. Then we'll see what we can do about your friend…"

"Kali," I supplied.

"About your friend Kali," he finished. "It's dangerous out here. She shouldn't be alone." Sam nodded at Ben and Haley and gestured behind him. Roy followed those three while Dean looked at me and used the same head motion Sam had just used to get me to follow them.

_Yup_, I thought. _They're related, all right._ I heaved my legs into motion and followed Roy up the hill and into a clearing. Dean brought up the rear.

"Our packs!" Haley said when she arrived in the clearing.

"So much for my GPS and satellite phone," Roy muttered, kneeling down. I stared around me. Two tents were ripped to shreds. Both were ransacked and covered in blood. The campfire was caved in on one side, as if someone had been dragged diagonally across it.

"What the hell happened?" I asked quietly. "What's going on?"

"It's smart," Sam said. "It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help."

"What's smart?" I asked, getting more nervous by the second. "What doesn't want us to call for help?"

Roy glowered. "I think you mean 'who,'" he corrected me. "D'you mean to tell me that some sick person out there just stole our gear?"

Sam whispered something into Dean's ear, a look of frustration on his face. They moved off quietly. I hesitated a moment, wondering if following them was a good idea, but curiosity won over politeness – that, and the feeling that if anyone could help Kali, it was Sam and Dean.

"Sorry," Sam frowned as I walked closer. "But this is between my brother and me."

"No," I said firmly. "I…_really_ need to talk to both of you."

"No," he replied just as firmly, "Dean and I are talking about something private."

I took a deep breath. "Would that 'something private' have anything to do with a thing called a Wendigo?" I asked, cringing.

That got his attention. Dean noticed his brother's reaction and scoffed. "A Wendigo? Come on, Sam. They only live in Minnesota or northern Michigan. I've never heard of one this far west."

"No, no," Sam protested. "Think about it – the claw marks, the way it can mimic a human voice…"

Dean nodded, grimacing. I, on the other hand, felt as if I'd just been punched in the stomach. This was getting worse and worse.

Sam turned back to me with a thoughtful look. "How did you know it was a Wendigo?"

"I didn't. I just… Oh my god. Look, can – Can I ask you a question?" I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I couldn't believe that this could happen to _anybody_ – and that since obviously it could, that it was happening to me. "Uh, Sam and Dean, right?"

They nodded.

"Sam and Dean _Winchester_?"

They glanced at each other and nodded more slowly, wondering where this was going.

I looked around me. This forest didn't look like a set. If it was a set, it was a pretty extensive one. I didn't see any cameras. I heard birds in the trees and wind rustling through the leaves, so it couldn't be a set. But if it wasn't, then there still should have been guys with microphones and big white boards for lighting, and tracks on the ground for big TV cameras to move along. Why was this all so goddamned _real_?

I shrugged it off and decided to go all the way just to make sure. "Sam and Dean Winchester who drive all over the country in a Chevy Impala and fight demons and ghosts and werewolves and shit?"

They straightened and looked at each other suspiciously. They didn't say anything out loud, but their reactions were more than enough to give me the answers I needed.

"Oh, my god you are," I breathed, wide-eyed.

"And… how do you know who we are?" Dean asked.

"Ha!" I let out a laugh right in their faces. "You know, I really don't think you want to know." I rubbed my face tiredly and looked around again, this time squinting into the trees. "You sure there's not a camera in there? Like I'm not getting Punk'd or whatever?"

"What do you mean?" Sam looked at me pityingly. He probably thought I was a loony.

_Please tell me I'm dreaming,_ I wished. I wished it so hard I actually moved my lips.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

"We have to get Kali," I said, biting my lip. "I mean, we _really_ have to get Kali."

"Wait a minute," Sam said. "Who are you? Are you a hunter? How do you know us?"

I couldn't do anything else. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I'm Chris Adams. I'm not a hunter, I'm a college student from Maryland. Last week I got on a plane to go hiking in England. Last night I slept in a tent in the Lake District. One hour ago I was in a stone circle about three kilometers from Keswick – and now I'm here. I don't know what the fuck happened in between."

Dean smiled a little at that, but Sam kept up the staring match and asked, even more slowly, "How do you know who we are?"

I blinked, but continued the eye contact. "Kali's psychic," I said, mustering as much honesty I could into my face. It was a gamble to see if they'd believe me, but I definitely wasn't going to tell them that they were part of a TV show. If I was having trouble dealing with it after I'd spent a mere twenty minutes here, how would they feel if they found out their entire lives were fake?

Sam's eyes widened, but Dean snorted. "A psychic? Aw, come on."

"She is," I persisted to Sam, seeing that I could get him to believe me. "She told me about the Wendigo and about you. She said that… I think she said that you were looking for your mother? Or your mother's killer – you were looking for your _father_ and your mother's killer." I knew I'd gotten it right from the look on both their faces.

"Does she know where he is? Either one," Sam asked carefully.

"I don't know. Maybe," I shrugged. "I told her to stop telling me stuff because it was – weird." _Giving too much away,_ I finished in my head. I had told her that it was really hard listening to her talk about the show without actually having seen it myself. She began sending me YouTube clips then, and that's how I recognized Sam and Dean in the first place. From what I'd seen on the internet, Dean was a flippant asshole while Sam "wasn't afraid of chick flick moments." According to this new development, however, Sam wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He was tense and curt with everyone, and I was getting the feeling he didn't really care about anyone in the group. And now I was stuck with the two of them… which was sort of the least of my problems.

I really needed Kal.

There was a long pause. I didn't feel like saying anything else, but Sam and Dean both looked as though they wanted me to. "I just want to find Kali," I said.

"So do we," Sam agreed, and headed back toward the camp. Dean smiled at me and followed Sam. I swallowed, relieved I'd gotten so far without breaking down into hysterics. This was insane. This was _dangerous_ and insane, but it was more the insanity that scared me.

"All right," Sam announced as he walked back into the clearing. "Everybody ready? Good. Let's go." He headed back out the way we came, then stopped and waited for me to catch up. I shouldered my daypack and went ahead, quickly finding the log I tripped over and following the pieces of fruit I'd left behind. _I'm not so sure this is what they meant when they called it "trail" mix,_ I thought sardonically, and smiled grimly to myself. I knew where I was and I had help with me – probably the best help I could possibly have, given the circumstances. Things were looking up… in an "I'm in a very deep pit and I can't find a ladder" sort of way, but still.

I got to the point where the fruit stopped and oriented my compass so that I was facing due west. I checked my watch, called out, "This way," and started out again. I was already forty-five minutes later than I wanted to be, and I didn't want Kali to worry – if she'd woken up.

I tried to stop the thought from coming, but it showed its ugly head anyway: _If she's _alive_ and has woken up._ I shook my head and fixed on a point on the horizon ahead of me and headed toward it. The only way I'd truly be able to know how Kal was doing was to ask her myself. I sped up, so worried I was practically jogging. I made the two-kilometer stretch that had taken me half an hour before in less than twenty minutes.

But it didn't make an ounce of difference. As I burst into the clearing where I'd set up the tent, I noticed that the door was open – but there was no sign of Kali outside.

"Kali?" I called. I tore away the tent flap and cursed. Kali wasn't there, her pack was gone, and there wasn't even a sign of a struggle. I threw down my pack and leaned against a tree, putting my head in my hands and trying to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. If I started crying now I'd… be embarrassed, and that wouldn't help anything.

"Chris?" Haley touched my shoulder. I resisted the urge to recoil, but shrugged anyway. She took her hand away and looked down. I immediately felt bad for her.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm just… ugh. I'm sorry." I looked up and took a deep breath. "Kali's not here. I told her where I was going, but… she's gone."

"Dean, look at this," Sam called. He was looking at the ground immediately outside the tent. Dean knelt down beside him. "Something was dragged from here."

I was next to them in an instant. "Where does it go?" I asked, nodding at the trail.

There was a pause in which the two brothers looked at each other. "It—ends here," Sam said quietly. "It doesn't go anywhere."

* * *

**Kali's POV**

The first thing I felt was delicious warmth, strangely enough, when I came to consciousness. It went right down to my core, completely comfortably, like I was softly wrapped in an electric blanket – only that blanket felt like plastic against my nose. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly blinded by what could only be one of our bright orange survival bags. I was blinded because wherever I was, it was sunny.

Then came the throbbing in my head, gradually becoming more distinct as my brain came back to life. It wasn't painful, but it quickly instigated a flashback marking the pain's origin. Just the memory made me groan, and I touched the place I'd hit on a rock. A neat bandage was taped there, and everywhere else felt fine, so I felt safe to sit up. I was in a tent, and the sound of trees blowing outside was muffled through the walls. It was indeed bright, a curious observation seeing as I last remembered walking through the gloomiest weather in the Lake District.

Looking around, I saw a sleeping bag set up next to me.

"Chris…" I muttered. She must have patched me up after I fell and set up camp. On her sleeping bag was a piece of paper, so I grabbed it and started reading.

_Kali –_

_You hit your head on one of the rocks in the Stone Circle. I've gone for help, walking due east until I find civilization or any sign of civilization. I won't go farther than a kilometer or so, unless I actually find something. I'll be back by 2200 (your watch time). Don't follow me, stay dry, and there are peanut M&M's in the side pocket of Ulysses._

_Chris_

I looked down at my watch… 22:15. Maybe she was outside.

I made to get out of the sleeping bag, but the moment I moved my left ankle I let out a pained cry. It felt sprained, badly, so I scooted myself out and gently slid the sock down my foot. Definitely twisted, or maybe even broken. I wasn't sure how to tell and didn't want to find out, but the swelling was enough to say it would be out of commission for a while.

"Fantastic," I groaned.

Careful not to move it too much, I leaned towards the door of the tent and unzipped it, then the rain cover. I was surprised to see tall trees everywhere, hardly a common sight where we were supposed to be. The sunlight was boring down so strongly because we were in a clearing, and it wasn't far past midday. Just outside the door of the tent was the bright orange form of my pack, nicknamed Ulysses as an old joke from forever ago. There were boot prints in the dirt, but after a good listen and a look around, I found no sign of Chris.

Then it occurred to me, what she said in her note. Find a sign of civilization? We were in England, and we had a map, and a compass, and nine times out of ten if you follow a trail long enough you'll hit a farm or a small village. She sounded as if we were… lost.

Then again, something didn't feel right about this place. It didn't feel like England. Something was wrong.

"Son of a bitch."

My ankle was screwed to hell, my head was bashed in, I had no idea where I was, and my best friend had wandered off and hadn't come back yet.

"I could use those M&Ms right about now." I grabbed the bag out of my pack and settled back into the tent, popping a few in my mouth and thinking. I was in no state to walk anywhere, so I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket only to find that it had no signal, and was almost dead.

"Son of a _bitch_."

It just wasn't my day.

Something started oozing down the bridge of my nose. I touched the warm substance and rubbed it between my fingers. It was blood. I jumped to action and reached for the med kit, searching for another bandage or something to stop the bleeding. I wasn't sure why it started in the first place, but I found some more bandages and started wiping it away.

"Son of a bitch, bitch, bitch!"

I had a small mirror in my pack, so I used it to secure another bandage over the cut on my head. Then I took care of my ankle by cracking a miniature ice pack and elevating it on my sleeping bag, which I folded into a pillow. It was then that I finally laid back and took a deep breath, running a hand over my face and clearing my head.

So Chris was gone and I was crippled, and the damn cell phone didn't work. That pretty much left me no other choice but to lay there and wait. At least we came prepared for an emergency… though the exact circumstances of this one were a bit of a mystery. That weird ass fire in the middle of the stone circle was pretty bizarre as far as hiking trips go.

_Snap!_

My eyes shot open and I listened, but nothing followed. It was then that I realized something peculiar: the birds were quiet, and even the bugs had shut up. I had seen too many movies to know that this was a bad sign.

Then I heard it: the soft but distinct sound of footsteps, and my heart leaped.

"Chris?" I called, but no one answered, and the footsteps stopped.

Something moved past the tent, a silhouette flashing by so quickly it was hardly noticeable, but the sound of it flying by made me jump back. Suddenly I was very scared, and my first thought was to close the door, but a growl unlike anything I'd ever heard before froze me in place. It happened so quickly: something grabbed my injured ankle hanging out of the tent, and I screamed as it dragged me out with a violent jerk. Not a moment later, I was knocked out cold again from the pain, never even glimpsing my attacker before my vision went black.


	3. Wendigo

**Chapter 3 –** **Chris' POV**

"Great," I muttered, staring at the empty tent. "Now they have my M&M's, too." _As if Kali wasn't enough_, I added silently. All I had now was the pack on my back – and the clothes on my back, too, but they were crappy camping clothes and I didn't want to wear them anyway.

Dean smiled a little and looked up at the sky. "It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter by day… but it's an unbelievable hunter at night."

I almost asked, "Why's that?" but didn't. I figured I didn't really want to know. Things were bad enough already without me finding something else to worry about.

"We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

"With what?" I asked without thinking. "Trees? A log?" _To trip it up? What the hell?_ I looked around. All I could see – besides trees and logs – was the tent. _Lots of protection there_, I thought sarcastically, remembering the shredded Colemans I'd seen earlier.

Dean and Sam each picked up a stick. I stared at them. _Oh, we're going to _poke_ it to death_, my mind told me, completely deadpan. Luckily, no one there was telepathic and the brothers, with only a quick glance around the group, began walking in a huge circle around us and dragging the sticks in the ground behind them.

"What're you doing?" Haley asked dubiously. At this point, all of us were looking at them funny.

"Drawing Anasazi symbols," Sam explained.

"For protection," Dean finished. He took out a small, leather-bound notebook from his inside jacket pocket and flipped to a page, showing it to Sam. Sam nodded and began adding extra scratches around the circle at certain intervals.

"And the Wen—whatever's out there isn't going to cross that?" I resisted the urge to scuff the scratches on the ground with my boot. It was a _line_. In the _dirt_.

Against "an unbelievable hunter."

"Nope," Dean said.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I just flopped down on the ground and muttered, "That's good. That's _wonderful_. I'm going to let go of consciousness and hope I wake up somewhere else – again." I rooted through my daypack and slammed a packet of Craisins on the ground next to me. "If anybody wants dinner, here it is."

Then I closed my eyes and wished for home.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

This time, I woke rather uncomfortably. I felt groggy, my head hurt, and there were pins and needles in my shoulders. My neck felt stiff, so I moved it around a little bit and heard a loud pop, making me wince. Then I opened my eyes and saw nothing. It was too dark to see. There was a dim light coming from somewhere, though, like it was showing through a thick plastic sheet, but that was the least of my concerns. Last I remembered… I was in my dorm room, in Maryland.

There was a groan next to me, and I turned my head to see the silhouette of someone strung up by their arms. Behind them, what looked like a shaft, was letting the light in. A drop of water pat on my head, and I looked up to find that I was strung up as well. The ceiling looked like stone, rugged enough to be a cave wall or something.

"Hey," the silhouette said weakly, and I could barely make out the dirty face of a young man. "You okay?"

I couldn't even nod, I was so completely confused. Nothing added up at all. It was like a dream, and I was so out of it this could very well be one. The pain in my head and arms felt pretty vivid, though. What was this place?

"Hey. H-hey," he tried to catch my attention. "I'm Tommy."

"Ka…Kali," I replied, having to think about my own name.

"What were you doing in Blackwater Ridge?"

I stared at him blankly.

"Where's… Blackwater Ridge?" I asked back.

His brow furrowed curiously, but then a dull sound echoed somewhere to the left. It gradually grew more distinct, and I realized it was heavy footsteps. There was another entrance, the same light coming from it, and the shadow of… something… grew shorter as it neared. Something else stirred in a corner a little ways away, and whimpering followed. We weren't the only people tied up in here.

My heart began to race, because something was wrong. Whatever cast that shadow was not human, and no animal walked upright like that, so it must be a monster, and therefore this was just a nightmare. Suddenly the person across the room began to scream.

"Help! Help me! He-AAAAAAAGH—" The terrified shrieks died out into a gurgle. Only ripping, tearing, fleshy sounds followed. I turned away to squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will myself awake. It always worked before when I had a nightmare; I could just wake up. But those sounds wouldn't end.

I tried moving my hands, tried wriggling them out from the tight ropes that cut into my wrists. I got a rope burn and I hadn't even twisted around that hard. Whoever had tied me up knew what they were doing.

The sounds of mutilation stopped suddenly and I froze, not a breath in the air. I listened, and heard slow, heavy footsteps heading away from my left. The thing had gone.

"Oh my God, oh my g-… oh my God," I heard Tommy mumble.

"What was that?" I gasped, still quivering with fright.

"Oh God… Gary."

"Hey, tell me what the hell's going on!" I whispered hoarsely, my throat suddenly dry.

"What's going on? My best friend just got ripped to pieces," he retorted, and I could have sworn I saw light reflect off his wet cheeks. Now I felt sorry.

"Were you with anybody? D-does anyone know you're out here?" he asked frantically.

"I don't even know where we are."

"You're in fucking Colorado! Blackwater Ridge, okay? Now tell me there's gonna be people looking for you." There was panic in his voice, but I couldn't lie even to comfort him.

"Last I remember… I was in Maryland," I said quietly, blinking at the floor. "I don't think anyone there will think I'm in Colorado. Sorry."

He shook his head and kicked something on the ground, and I heard nothing but quiet weeping sounds from him then on.

* * *

**Chris' POV**

It was nighttime, and it was raining. Kali and I had finished our hike from the stone circle and we were exhausted – but not exhausted enough to stop talking, singing and giggling in our tent. The hike would end the next day, so we were on a high from the combination of adrenaline rush from that day and the anticipation of hot showers tomorrow.

"Lalalala lalalala NAKED SAMMY –" I sang, completely off-key as usual.

"DEAN!" Kali finished, and we burst out in embarrassed laughter. It was a song we'd found on YouTube while looking for Supernatural footage. It was called "The Sammy Song" and it made fun of the Llama Song – but I only cared for the first few seconds in which there was a clip of Sam Winchester walking out a bathroom with only a towel around his waist.

Kali, I was sure, appreciated the picture as well, but probably only watched the video for the "DEAN!" moments. We liked to joke that we were best friends because we could share the Winchester brothers without any problems.

As our giggles died away, I listened to the rain pattering softly on the rain fly, sighing inwardly at the thought of packing up a wet tent. But we'd brought extra plastic bags for just that problem, so there wasn't really much to complain about.

"Still got some of those M&M's?" Kali asked. I grinned and passed them over. Peanut M&M's were a favorite of mine and I'd brought them on hikes long before I'd even started hiking with Kali.

"Don't eat them all," I joked. "We'll want some to fight the Wendigo with."

Kali cracked up laughing as a funny thought came to her. "Throw them at it: 'Eat this! Eat this!' Or just throw a whole bunch on the ground and it'll slip on them when it chases us."

I should have laughed. It really was funny – and any other time I'd laugh hilariously – but for some reason it struck a chord… I suddenly remembered that the only thing I knew about Wendigos was what Kali had told me: that peanut M&M's were instrumental in their defeat in _Supernatural_. That was important. Why hadn't I asked her to tell me more?

I sat up, realizing I wanted some M&M's _right now_, but I couldn't get my arms out of my sleeping bag. "Kal?" I asked. "Kal, could you get my—" Something was seriously wrong, I could feel it. I looked over at her.

Kali wasn't in her sleeping bag. In her place was a long, terrifyingly thin creature with red eyes and claws the size of bread knives. It opened its mouth and I saw yellowed, razor sharp teeth rising toward me. Suddenly I wasn't in my sleeping bag anymore and I was running away, through a forest I didn't know in a place I didn't belong—

I woke up with a start and clutched at the ground. My heart was pounding against my ribcage like a jackhammer. I sank back down to my backpack-makeshift pillow and gulped down some air gratefully.

"Nightmare?" a voice asked above me. I twisted over and saw Sam walking out of the shadows, away from his brother who was sitting back against a tree.

"Uh," I said uncomfortably. "Yeah. Nightmare." _With peanut M&M's. _

"I hate those," Sam muttered, and sat on a log next to me.

_Nightmares, not M&M's. Who could hate M&M's? WAIT. Why is he sitting there? Why is he talking to me? _My mind raced, but luckily stopped short of wondering whether my breath smelled all right. I'd never been good with guys – romantically, at least, and that was the only way I'd ever thought of Sam Winchester. I mean, up until today he had been a fictional character, so I hadn't seen anything wrong with it. I suddenly realized how uncomfortable I would be in his presence if all I could think about was that picture on YouTube in which he was half-naked.

"Mm," I agreed noncommittally.

There was a pause as Sam waited for me to add something, but I couldn't think of anything interesting to say so I just sat there.

"Have nightmares often?" he asked after a while. It was an attempt at conversation. I couldn't believe it.

"Uh. No."

There was another pause. Sam still sat on the log. I tried to figure out why he was still there. Finally I gave up and asked, since he obviously wanted to talk and I wasn't cooperating, "Do _you_ have nightmares often?"

"What?" he said, surprised.

"I mean, while we're on the subject," I started sardonically, and let it trail off.

Sam stared at me, then finally answered, "Yes. I have nightmares often." He stood to go.

_Well, that was quick_, I thought, trying to ignore the fact that I was being overly hostile. I shrugged it off and was just settling down to go back to sleep when he turned around and asked, "What were you doing in England?"

"Hiking," I said shortly. So this _was_ meant to be an interrogation. Right.

"Hiking?"

"Yeah." _You won't get anything out of me, Nazi slime! Haha! _I grinned at my own imagination.

"What were you doing hiking in England?" Sam was beginning to sound annoyed. Maybe it was the grin. Maybe he thought I was laughing at him.

Well, let him think.

"Having fun," I said flatly. Half of me couldn't believe I was being so rude, but the other half, a much more powerful and reasonable and…cynical part of me, did not like the direction this conversation was going. And I also didn't like the look on his face that said that he was only doing this out of obligation, not out of any concern for me or Kali. I really hated that look.

He rolled his eyes to the sky as if praying for guidance. Or patience. "Look, Chris. We're just trying to help. If you tell us more about how you got here and what you were doing, maybe we can do something."

I raised my eyebrows. _Honesty. How refreshing._ But I really couldn't be so critical toward him. I'd lied to him, and now it was my turn to come clean. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was exactly the direction I was afraid this conversation would head. "I lied when I said Kali was psychic. She's not. Neither of us are. We're from a different world where lots of people know who you are. Don't look at me like that," I said, opening my eyes and watching his face carefully. "I don't know how to prove it, but that's the way it is."

I was impressed by the way his face barely twitched a muscle during the few minutes of silence that followed this bizarre statement of mine. But he was angry, I could tell. "That is the biggest load of shit I have ever heard." He turned around and started walking.

"Okay, then. Don't believe it," I shrugged. "Stick with the psychic story, it doesn't matter. It all comes to the same thing, anyway, which is that I'm here and Kali's being eaten by something." I had a sudden burst of inspiration and unzipped my jacket, pulling out my passport. "Here," I said. "Look."

Sam was back in an instant. "What's this?" he asked, flipping through the small book.

"A passport," I said. Duh.

"But these stamps go up to 2009," he said, giving me a look and holding the book toward the fire so he could get more light.

"Well, yeah. I took the flight last week."

Sam stared at me. "It's 2005," he declared. "September 20, 2005."

My heart should have stopped. It would have been poetic to say my heart stopped, but it didn't. I wished afterward that it had, but instead I just sat there in shock.

"Chris?" Sam asked after a moment.

I couldn't believe how lonely I suddenly felt. It was like the story of the man coming back home after a long trip and having his neighbor tell him his dog died. "How did the dog die?" "It was in the house when it burned down." "How did the house burn down?" "It caught fire from the candles in your mother's funeral." "How did my mother die?" "She had a heart attack when she found out your wife ran off with the salesman…" I sat back up and hugged my knees to my chest, swallowing hard. Things just kept stacking up, and none of them were in my favor.

"You all right?" Sam sat back on the log next to me.

_That wasn't the kind of lonely I meant._ I shook my head, feeling better for my pathetic attempt at humor, and looked back up. "I've just traveled through space _and_ time with my maybe-psychic friend who is maybe-being eaten by a thing from my worst nightmare. You tell me."

He stared at me, then chuckled softly. I grinned. "You're right," he said, handing my passport back to me. "Just tell me everything you know. My brother and I may be able to help."

Sounded good to me. I told him everything I could remember about the stone circle and the weird ritualistic fires and symbols. "And now it turns out I should be seventeen again and in England anyway. My parents are gonna kill me if they find out I'm in Colorado. And twenty-one. This is going to be so _weird_." I didn't mention that it was going to be even weirder – and not in a good way – trying to tell Kali's parents that she was dead. Or maybe-dead. "Sam, you have to tell me. What are the odds that Kali's still alive?"

Sam tried to smile reassuringly. "Pretty decent, actually. Wendigos store their food for days before eating it. Kali's probably somewhere dark, hidden and safe."

I stared at him. Was that supposed to make me feel better? "You know, I was hoping more for a statistic than for actual facts," I said.

He laughed again. I smiled, gratified my cynicism wasn't wasted on him.

"Hey, Chris," Dean said, detaching himself from the shadows and walking over to the log Sam was sitting on. "Move over, Sammy." Sam did so and Dean sat down next to him. "So whatchya got?"

"Two really weird stories and a passport," Sam said.

I handed Dean the passport, but didn't say anything about the stories. Dean opened the document, then grinned. "Your name is Christine…"

I raised an eyebrow humorlessly. His smile diminished slightly.

"You said your name was Chris, so I just thought that…" He swallowed. "Never mind." He flipped through the pages and stopped about halfway through. "What the hell? This is one crappy forgery," he murmured. "Look at the date."

"'Manchester, 2009,'" Sam quoted from the stamp. "It's not a forgery, Dean. It's real."

"What? How do you know that?" Dean looked at Sam, then at me. I pulled out my wallet and gave it to him silently. Dean took it and pulled out my college ID and my driver's license. The college ID was from 2008, but the driver's license was issued in 2005. Dean stared at the picture.

"You look 18 in this," he said, showing it to me.

"That's because I am 18 in it," I said. "I've had that for four years."

"Wait. You're telling me you're from the frigging future?" Dean asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I leaned back, bemused. "Uh… Yeah."

"Christo," Dean said suddenly.

I stared at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Dean, she's not possessed. I think she's telling the truth!" Sam said exasperatedly.

"I'm not _what_?"

"She could be anything, Sam." Dean sat back, then looked at me quickly. "Who wins the Superbowl?"

"I 'could' be – _What_?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed.

"What? I'm just asking."

_Okay_, I thought, shaking my head. _First he thinks I'm possessed, then he thinks I care about football. The man's obviously deranged. _"Red Sox win the World Series, though," I smiled. Dean snorted. "2007, I think."

"Now I know you're lying," Dean grinned back. I laughed.

"Help! Please, somebody help me!" The voice that had called out with those same words earlier that day ripped through the trees. I stopped talking immediately. I stopped _breathing_, I was so surprised – and scared. That _thing_ had taken Kali, and now it was back for the rest of us. I scooted toward the fire.

"Just stay cool. Stay together," Dean reassured, standing up.

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy scoffed. I glared at him. I hadn't been too sure about the "magic circle," either, but we'd had a fire going for some time. Anything could have found us, but nothing had. And, by the tactics I'd seen it use before, this was just another ruse to lure us out into the forest – outside the "magic circle" that apparently was saving our lives. If Roy wanted to leave, he could go ahead. I wasn't going to stop him.

I mean, after all, he _was_ the one with the rifle…

"Help! Help me plea—AAARGH!" the shouts ended with a roar.

I blinked in confusion. How was that thing going to get us now? It just _ate _the "person" calling for help. Did it really think we were going to look for someone who we'd just heard die? How was this a "tactic?"

Then I realized how quiet it could be in a forest that you _knew_ had something lurking in it. I shivered. Haley caught hold of Ben and came around the fire toward me.

"You'll be all right," she said. "I promise."

I knew she was only talking to her brother, but it made me feel better anyway. That is, until a sudden movement in the bushes behind us made her yelp and jump forward. A wave of disgust shot through me as I followed suit (but without all the screaming). Why promise something like protection if you couldn't even handle a few moving plants?

The Wendigo circled around again. This time Roy shot a few clips at it. "I hit it!" he yelled, then went charging after it – across the circle and through the trees.

I gaped at the bushes he just crashed through. The man was _insane._

"Roy, no!" Dean shouted, stopping just short of the Anasazi boundary. Then he sighed and whirled around, pointing a finger at Haley, Ben, and me, shouting, "Don't move!"

I actually turned around behind me to see who he was talking to, even though I was in the back. Did I _look_ like I wanted to go anywhere? When I turned back around, both Dean and Sam were smashing through the foliage behind Roy. I stared at them in total disbelief.

_Men._

I grabbed one of the least burnt logs from the fire and held it firmly. If anything that wasn't Sam or Dean or Roy came back through those trees, it was going to get a very – warm welcome.

I cringed at the pun but stood my ground. I heard a bit of yelling and a scream, but then silence, broken only by a single call: "Roy?"

I heard something coming back to the clearing and moved toward the noise, ready to swing the torch forward at a moment's notice. I fully expected that thing from my nightmare to come through those trees that instant.

Dean's head popped out from behind the bushes instead, which – given my relief – allowed me to think, _That_ _wasn't much of an improvement._

"Whoa," Dean said as he looked up and stopped. Sam, two steps behind, nearly bumped into him. I twitched my mouth into a half smile and shrugged, then put the log back in the fire and sat down with my back against an enormous stump, trembling.

"Where's Roy?" Haley asked.

_I swear, if you start shouting his name, I'm going to smack you_, I thought disgustedly.

"We, uh…couldn't find him," Sam said quietly.

Haley opened her mouth.

_Don't do it_, I thought. _Don't you dare do it!_

"Nobody leaves this circle until daylight," Dean declared, saving us all from a bit of unnecessary violence.

_Sounds good to me. _I hugged my knees and took a deep breath. I felt… crappy. Another one of us had been kidnapped and all I could think of were sarcastic remarks and threats. I pulled my hood up and lay down, my back toward the fire and Sam, Dean, Haley and Ben. I needed to calm down. I needed to relax.

_I need to get out of here._

But there was no way out – not through this Anasazi circle, not through that Stone Circle… I was trapped, and everything I knew just kept going around and around in my head, spiraling down into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Chris? Chris, wake up." Somebody shook me awake. I opened my eyes and saw Sam standing over me, hand still on my shoulder. I shrunk down into my rain jacket, actually hiding up to my nose before realizing that, one, he could still see me no matter what I did, and two, he could still hold my shoulder through the jacket.

I waved his arm off, rolled away in exasperation and stretched. Then I got up and looked around, remembering everything from last night and the days before in their entirety. When I turned back to the log, Sam was still there with a faraway look in his eyes. I watched him for a bit, wondering what he was thinking about. He looked so _angry_. But then he realized what I was doing and asked, "What?"

"'Morning," I said drily. I turned around and headed toward the trees. (As if I could head toward anything else…)

"Wait," he said, starting after me. "Where are you going?"

I ran a hand through my disgusting, hadn't-been-washed-in-days hair and tried to be nice. "I've been holding it since England," I explained finally, crossing my legs slightly for emphasis.

"Oh." The poor boy looked stricken and practically ran for his brother. I continued into the forest and tried not to think too hard about the Wendigo that was probably hiding in it. I also tried not to think of all the jokes I could make about being caught with my pants down, but that didn't work either. In the end, I settled with the descriptor "scared shitless" and decided I was too pathetic to even live. I was probably going to die and all I could think about were stupid puns? This was ridiculous.

When I returned, Dean and Sam were telling Haley and Ben about the Wendigo.

"Did you know about any of this?" Haley asked me when they were done.

"Sort of," I admitted. "I knew about the cannibal thing, and the different legends saying that if you eat people you gain their abilities and knowledge, but the storage thing is still creepy."

"So you did know about it," Ben said. I was surprised. This was the first I'd ever heard out of the kid.

"Yeah, but I didn't think they were _real_."

Haley shook her head. "So how do we stop it?"

"Well," said Dean, "Guns are useless. So are knives." He paused for effect. "Basically, we gotta torch this sucker."

I frowned. "Wait – guns are useless?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," said Dean. "These should work." He held up the fuel bottles and tossed one to Sam, who was standing right behind me.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked as we started out.

"I… well – I don't know, I was just… under the impression, yeah, that you guys shot the thing." I mentally congratulated myself for not blurting out that it had been one of the clips I'd seen on YouTube. _I thought it was a silver bullet or something._

"Did Kali tell you that?"

"Yes," I said, with only a slight hesitation.

"Did she tell you anything else?"

I paused. "Well," I said slowly, "She did say something about the M&M's."

"The M&M's?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

I sighed. "I know it sounds like one of those weird, cryptic omens that only have meaning if you look for it, but she said that the M&M's save our lives."

"She must have been joking."

"She sort of was," I admitted.

Sam let out his breath, annoyed.

I wondered if this would make him angrier, but decided to risk it: "Which means she was sort of serious, too."

Sam nodded (but I could tell he didn't mean it), and waited for me to start walking. I followed Ben dispassionately. As we tramped up and down rocks and logs, I began to see the things Sam and Dean were looking for – claw marks on trees, mostly.

Then I realized that it was only claw marks on trees, and each one had blood smeared all over it. I stopped. "Hey, Sam?" I called out, looking up. They were all over the place.

"Yeah?" he answered. "Come on, you need to stay with the group."

_If I had a nickel every time someone told me that…_ "I'm not much of a tracker," I said slowly.

He just looked at me.

"So correct me if I'm wrong, but if I'm supposed to be looking for a trail of an unbelievable hunter, I'm supposed to be looking really hard, right?" I reasoned aloud. "It won't _want_ to be found."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Well, then, if this hunter is so amazing why does it mark its way with blood?" I paused. "Why is he making the way so obvious? I mean, if_ I_ can find it, anyone can."

Sam gave me a hard look, then glanced around at the trees. "You're right," he said finally. "I was thinking the same thing. Come on." He caught up with Dean easily and whispered to him. The older brother looked back at me, brows raised in apparent appreciation.

Suddenly Haley screamed. I sighed, then forgave her as a body dropped from the trees and nearly flattened her. Dead guys falling out of nowhere are a good reason to scream, I think. I didn't have to be up close to know the guy was dead, either. No one could belly-flop from branches that high and still be alive. Dean, however, checked for the cause of death and announced it to us. "His neck's broken."

It didn't make me feel better.

There was a rustling in the foliage to our right, then some movement just in front of us. I whirled around, trying to follow the thing with my eyes but failing. Wendigos could _move._ I sidled up to Dean. "Can we run now?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah." Dean's mouth twitched upward. "Okay, run. Run! Go, go, go!" He pushed everyone forward, myself included, and looked back. I ran for all I was worth, which didn't feel like a lot at the moment, but I didn't care. I tried not to think about the fact that none of us knew where we were going, and even if we did we were too far away to actually get there. Of course, identifying the thing that you're trying not to think about never, _ever_ works. I knew full well we were just waiting to be picked off and eaten one by one.

Ben brought me out of my oh-so-optimistic panic by sprawling in the dirt right in front of me. I jumped over him, stopped short, turned around, and grabbed him by the forearm. I'd like to say this was done in an entirely fluid and graceful movement, but I can't. I tried hoisting him up after that, but my weight was completely off. The kid was still getting used to the ground and wasn't ready for help that soon after he'd fallen anyway. It was like pulling on a very heavy spaghetti strand.

Luckily, either for me or Ben – or, in all likelihood, both of us – Sam came back and helped Ben up with barely even a grunt. We'd only just started running again when we heard the scream.

"Haley!" Ben called and sped up. I shot a look at Sam, who shot a look at me, and we both went to catch Haley's little brother. We crossed the crest of a small hill and looked down. The forest was completely empty. Sam picked up a broken fuel bottle with a rag still inside. It was Dean's.

Ben stared at it. I stared at Sam.

_Five down_, I thought morbidly. _Three to go…_


	4. Slaughterhouse Caves

**Chapter 4 – Chris' POV**

Sam turned to face me. "Did Kali tell you _anything_?" he asked desperately.

"Nothing," I said, glancing at Ben. But he was wandering off somewhere, looking for his sister. He hadn't heard us. "Look, can we talk about this later?" I moved to catch up to Ben – I didn't want anything happening to him.

"No," Sam said, grabbing my arm. "We need to talk now."

I let out my breath exasperatedly. "Look, all I know is that you're in this dark tunnel and Dean shoots the thing. With a _gun_," I added for emphasis. "And that sh—crap about the M&M's."

"Right, they 'save our lives,'" Sam rolled his eyes. "Chris, you have _got_ to tell me –"

"Hey!" Ben cried. "They went this way!"

Sam frowned and walked over. I followed, shaking my head. Even I was beginning to doubt what I'd seen and what Kali had told me.

When I arrived, Ben was crouched over and holding something small and blue in his fingers. He handed it to Sam, who stared at it in total astonishment. "What is it?" I asked.

"An M&M," Sam said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. He followed the trail with his eyes into the forest ahead thoughtfully.

I picked one up for myself. "Better than apples and peaches," I said, grinning. I almost put it in my mouth, I was so relieved. "Come on."

I lead the way for a bit, hopping along down the hill easily. After a while, though, the M&M's began to get sparse. Dean could not have had time to drop the candy one by one in a straight line, so he must have taken two or three at a time and dropped them behind as he was carried along. The trail got harder and harder to follow until Sam, right behind (if not beside) me the whole way, said in hushed tones, "You said we were in a dark tunnel?"

It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. "Yeah," I agreed.

"D'you think it could have been in a mine?"

I thought about it. "Maybe," I said. "I don't know. There was a bit of daylight coming from the ceiling, but that could have been – anything." _Convenient lighting, for instance._ But I didn't say that out loud. I mean, how could I?

Sam nodded, then said, louder, "It's only a hunch, but I think we need to head for the nearest silver or gold mine."

"I know one around here," Ben announced. "Haley and Tom told me never to go near it, though, because they said it was really unstable. It caved in 1910 or something and a couple dozen miners were trapped."

"The killings started in the thirties, and they go on every twenty-three years," Sam mused aloud. "I think that's the one we're looking for."

Ben nodded nervously and led us down the slope. Sam's hunch was confirmed as we found more and more M&M's along the way. Finally we came to the doors of a mine with decomposing yellow tape hanging around the edges, a sign with "WARNING! DANGER! DO NOT ENTER!" and an even older sign above that saying "KEEP OUT. NO ADMITTANCE."

"Think they made it clear enough?" I asked, trying to keep the words "Except on party business" from popping into my head, thus turning the sign into a Lord of the Rings reference.

Sam grinned and stepped inside. "Nope."

I let Ben go first, partly out of politeness but mostly because I really didn't want to go into the creepy dark tunnel with the freaky cannibal inside. I followed anyway and pulled out my flashlight from my backpack. I mentally thanked my original camping mentor, Gustav, for being so strict as to make me always carry one even if I thought I was going to get back to camp by sundown, and clicked it on.

It was a long, dark tunnel, all right. Slim shafts of light poked their way through the ceiling at random intervals ahead of us, reflecting dimly off of the rusty, dilapidated cart tracks leading off into the gloom. They really didn't help much with visibility – just screwed with our night vision long enough to prevent our ability to see where we were going every ten steps or so. We set off quickly, making as little noise as possible.

I noticed we weren't walking on rock anymore when my foot slid a little under me. The floor was wooden planking, wet from years of rain and cavern water dripping down into the mine. _That can't be good for the wood,_ I thought, and stopped. Sam and Ben, on the other hand, kept going. Suddenly the wood below us buckled and gave way in a dull _chunk_. I fell backwards and quickly tried to twist over so that I'd at least land on my arms, not the back of my neck. I got about halfway before I hit the ground, landing painfully with all my weight on my shoulder. I groaned, rolling onto my back and clutching my arm to my chest.

"Everyone all right?" Sam asked, not bothering to lower his voice. We'd made enough noise just by landing.

"No," I said, my voice sounding strangled. My left shoulder was throbbing horribly. "I think it's dislocated." _Something_ was definitely not where it should have been. I tried moving it a little and gasped in pain. That was _so_ not a good idea.

"Ah," Sam said. He crawled over to where I was struggling to sit up and knelt behind me. "Hold on, this is going to hurt a little."

_That doesn't sound promising._

I gritted my teeth as he maneuvered my arm around until he found the shoulder socket. He was half right: it _did_ hurt – but not a little.

"Okay, on three. You ready?"

"Mm." It came out higher-pitched than I'd expected – a whimper. I rolled my eyes in disgust. "Yes," I corrected myself. _That_ one came out as a snarl.

"All right. One," he started, then popped it back in without even counting to two. I let out my breath in a startled "Ghuuagh" and cursed, panting. "Better?"

_No,_ I thought immediately, but I tested out the shoulder by shrugging slowly. "Yeah," I confirmed. "Thanks."

* * *

**Kali's POV**

I couldn't remember a longer night in my life. Once the sun went down it was pitch black, and there were no sounds but the occasional drip of water and Tommy's breathing beside me. After a while the stinging in my shoulders subsided to complete numbness, and I noticed my ankle hurt when I tried to stand on my toes to ease my wrists. It felt sprained, conveniently enough, if I ever managed to devise an escape plan.

These little pains were hardly the reason for keeping me awake, though. I was afraid if I closed my eyes I'd wake up to that thing tearing me apart. Though whether I was asleep or awake wouldn't make any difference, I'd rather see it coming. Tommy, on the other hand, sounded like he was out cold. We hadn't spoken much, and I wish we had, because any clue as to what was happening and why would be a help. I still wanted this to be a dream, but I knew the difference.

The first glimpse of sunlight brought some relief because even if it neither benefited nor damaged my situation, it symbolized that I had made it through the night. That I could now see Tommy next to me was a bit of a comfort as well, knowing there was someone else sharing my suffering. Being alone in this place would have had me frightened to panic. I hated the dark.

It wasn't long into the morning when I was jerked into an alert state by movement coming into the cavern. My heart began to race, and already my breath quickened, anticipating that that thing was back for breakfast. As cold as it sounds, I half-heartedly hoped that it would go for Tommy first, but that would only delay the inevitable for me.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't just the creature who entered. It was dragging what I vaguely perceived to be two bodies behind it. I kept my head rested against my arm to act as if I were asleep – as useless as that was, but better not to advertize – and watched nervously as a man was tied up directly to my right. Next to him was a girl. They were both unconscious. Without even a huff of acknowledgement to me, the creature went out the way it came, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

It was a while before I was relaxed enough to think about checking the new arrivals. I suppose my first instinct was to check if they were alive. Neither was dripping blood to the floor so they weren't seriously injured, and they were breathing. The man was wearing a leather jacket, and I could see a fancy watch on his wrist, compared to the girl, who was dressed for a hike, no less. This was still no help as to where I was, once again.

"Hey," I rasped, then coughed and tried again. There was no response from either of them, and even Tommy was still quiet beside me. It concerned me that the kid was still out. Maybe he was really sick. God knows how long he's been down here, or what injuries he suffered internally. That thought made me feel more compelled to get us rescued.

It took a lot more effort than I ever thought possible, but I lifted up my leg, which felt like it weighed a ton, and tried to tap the man. Still no response, so I nudged him a little harder, going, "Hey," a little louder, and got a groan. It took a few other tries, but he finally bobbed his head and opened his eyes a little.

"Son of a bitch," I heard him mumble.

"You all right?" I asked, and his nose crinkled in disgust.

"Stinks in here." Another mumble.

"Hey!" He finally turned his head, and there was a short pause as he stared, letting his eyes adjust to the dark so he could see me.

"You Kali?" he asked, and I stared at him curiously.

"You know my name?"

"Yeah, Chris found us. We've been looking for you."

I looked at him, confused. "Chris?"

"Chris, uh – Adams. Yeah. She said you were friends." He was frowning now.

"Oh, _Chris_." My curious expression only deepened. "What's she doing here?"

Under other circumstances our current faces would probably look comical, as we both stared at each other like we were talking about totally different things with almost the exact same expression of "what the fuck."

"She's…well… looking for you," he answered.

"I don't even know how I got here. How is she looking for me?"

There was another pause as he speculated the reasoning behind what I was saying.

"I'm Dean Winchester," he said matter-of-factly, which sounded less like an introduction and more like a celebrity status. As if I were supposed to know him or something. I ignored it.

"Yeah, okay," was my nonchalant response, and he seemed a little taken aback.

"You don't know me?" He sounded amazed.

"Uh… no."

"Thought I was supposed to be famous," he muttered to himself disappointedly.

"How is Chris looking for me?" I asked again with more emphasis.

"She told Sam you guys were hiking in England, bumped into some hoodoo stone circle, and ended up here," was his totally useless response. This was riding my nerves more than it should. No one was giving me straight answers here.

"None of that rings a bell?" he asked.

"I think I'd remember if I took a plane all the way to England, especially if it was with Chris. I don't know what you're smoking, Shotgun."

He gave me a weird look.

"Technically it's a rifle."

"Whatever."

"Anyways, Kelly-"

"_Kali_."

"Whatever. Do you remember anything?"

I sighed. "That's a stupid question."

He raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

"No it's not."

"Yes it is. If you wanna find out something you don't ask someone if they remember _anything_. That's a little vague." I realized I was being just slightly unreasonable, but we weren't exactly going anywhere and we weren't against the clock, so wasting time with stupid bickering wasn't too much of a bother. I was annoyed anyway. He just stared a moment, then shook it off.

"All right then, what's the last thing you remember?"

I scoffed inwardly. Of all the people Chris got to help find me, it was this dumbass. _Wow… I'm really moody._

"I was lying on my bed, reading a book. I guess I fell asleep and woke up here."

"Damn… You really don't know me?" he asked again.

I glared at him menacingly, but there was a creak in the floorboards above, and I forgot about a retort. The footsteps were heavy, not a comforting sign.

"It's coming back," I whispered shakily.

"Just pretend you're asleep."

"I don't think that'll make a difference to its stomach."

"Just do it. Better me than you," he responded to my surprise. For a second I had to think about what he said, like I heard it wrong. Maybe I got the wrong idea about him before. I stared blankly at him, and he looked back and winked.

"I'm pretty sure I look a bit more appetizing than you, sweetheart."

Well, that didn't sound conceited, but given what he just opted to do, I forgave him.

"You're crazy," I said.

A familiar sound was coming. We both stared at the skeletal figure approaching, and once again my heart hammered against my chest. Its shadow grew shorter and shorter, until finally its bony leg appeared, and the rest followed. I waited to see who it approached. Dean was struggling with his binds to no avail, but it didn't appear to be interested in him. The moment its direction was aimed solely at me, I began breathing hard and twisting my wrists painfully.

"Hey! Skanky! Scrap a piece of me, you son of a bitch!" Dean taunted, but it took no notice of him.

"Aahh, oh god," I whimpered, squinting my eyes shut in anticipation of those claws raking me across the stomach. It was so close now I could feel its breathing, and my instinctive response was to bring back my leg and slam it against those frail looking legs, so that's exactly what I did. The blow made it cease its advance for a moment, but didn't appear to hurt it at all. And I had steel toe boots on too. Damn…

I threw my leg up again, this time aiming, and nailed it straight between the legs. I only half expected something to be there. Really, it was a frantic move I merely hoped would have a significant effect. Apparently it did, but not the immobilizing one I expected. The thing was bent over slightly in pain, and let out a roar I'd never heard before, but it recovered pretty fast. I think I only made it angry.

A noisy crash of what sounded like wood breaking echoed very loudly down the cavern, and faint voices followed. _People… we're saved!_

The creature looked back and forth from me to the cavern, as if deciding what it wanted to tear apart more: the bitch who had just kicked it in the nuts or the punks tearing up its house. I felt this wasn't the time for any smartass remarks – either it would eat me now, or he would kill the people that might be trying to rescue us and then come back for me later. The situation wasn't really promising either way, but I knew which one I personally preferred.

It started walking down the cavern, and I let out a relieved sigh.

"You do know you just kicked a Wendigo in the nuts, right?" Dean chuckled, and I looked at him to see a smirk.

"A what?"

"I'll admit, that was pretty badass."

I looked at him weird.

"Well… if it was an actual _guy_ then it might not…" He paused, and his smirk withered away. "Never mind. Sounds like my brother Sammy found us, and he'll have Chris with him."

_Finally, someone who will give me straight answers._

* * *

**Chris' POV**

"Uh, guys?" Ben was standing close to us and tapping Sam on the shoulder. "Something's coming."

I scrambled to my feet and looked around. There was no place to hide around here. The Wendigo was approaching from the tunnel in front of us, moving slowly but inexorably closer by the second. We turned around and doubled back on ourselves, jogging the way we would have come if we'd been a floor lower. I didn't look back.

Suddenly Sam turned off into a side passage, and we followed that for a few hundred feet before he grabbed us both and shoved us into the wall. It hurt, but I wasn't complaining. He'd found a very dark space that would hide us well if we didn't move and tried to look like part of the rock. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, listening closely for the shuffling footsteps of the Wendigo. I heard them, listened to them pass us, then opened my eyes and watched as Sam carefully crept up to the intersection and poked his head around the corner. When he finally motioned that it was all clear, I grabbed Ben's wrist and pulled him along after me. It wasn't that I didn't think he could follow on his own – I just needed someone to hold on to for a bit.

Sam led us back up the way the Wendigo had come. As we walked further in, the air got stale and finally began to reek – an oppressive, suffocating stink that settled over our heads and got caught in our throats.

"We must be getting close," Sam whispered. I gagged.

Ben lost his footing and stumbled over some round rocks piled in a corner. Round, hollow rocks. I bent down and picked one up. It was a skull.

"Ew, Yorick," I muttered, and dropped it. Sam, who was helping Ben to his feet, apparently heard me and snorted. I smiled grimly to myself, then continued down the corridor. After a few steps, the passageway opened up into a sort of dimly lit chamber, and hanging in the middle of the "room" were four bodies.

"Kali!" I rushed forward and hugged her around her waist.

"OW! Sore shoulders, Chris, don't hang on me!" was her grumpy and, I must say, slightly unexpected response.

"Well, sorry," I muttered. "Don't thank me for saving you or anything."

"Yeah, sorry. I've been hanging by the arms for god knows how long and nearly got ripped apart by that freak. I'm not exactly in a good mood."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's fine." I grinned happily up at her.

"So what the hell's going on here?"

I stared at her. "You don't remember this?" I asked. She shook her head."Wendigo episode? Supernatural? Sam and Dean?" _Oh, no…_

Kali glared back at me. "What are you talking about? Jeez, and I thought I was actually going to get some straight answers from you."

I opened my mouth to say something, but decided it could wait. "Look, just let me cut you down." I found my pocketknife in my…pocket (makes sense, doesn't it?) and reached up. I wasn't nearly tall enough to reach her wrists, let alone the rope that was holding her to the ceiling. "Shit."

"Here," Sam came up behind me and cut the ropes easily with a bowie knife practically the size of my forearm. I stared at him, wondering where he'd gotten it, but then Kali fell and draped one of her arms gratefully around my shoulders. Luckily I had the presence of mind to shift to my right so that she wasn't leaning all over my recently dislocated shoulder, but she still gripped the other one tight with her hand. I winced.

"Agh, my arms!" she whined. "I can't even feel them. You all right?" she asked, finally realizing my grimaces and letting go.

"Yeah," I lied. "Yeah, I'm fine." She limped one step and I stopped. "Are you? I mean, besides the arms thing."

"Uh, no." She looked down at her feet. "I think I sprained my ankle or something."

I grinned, always able to see the humor in just about any situation. "Aren't we just a bunch of cripples, then?"

Kali chuckled and nodded. "Yeah." We hobbled over to where Dean was sitting, Kali hopping on one foot and me wincing as she squeezed my shoulder. I was laughing by the time I sat her down. We really _were_ cripples.

"What is wrong with you?" Kali smiled. I guess my giggles were infectious.

"I have no idea. I think I'm just glad to see you're okay. It's a weight off my shoulders, I can tell you – figuratively speaking, that is." I sighed. "God, I was so worried. When you fell and hit your head in that stone circle –"

"What?"

"Stone circle," I repeated dumbly. "England? Lake District? _D.O.E?_" I used the acronym for the Duke of Edinburgh Program that had started us camping together almost eight years before. "Kali, if you don't remember Duke of Ed –"

"I remember D.O.E," Kali retorted. "But that was in high school."

"Right," I agreed, "but as soon as we realized we couldn't get our Gold, we said we'd come back and try again. That's what we were—"

"Oh, yeah!" Kali's whole face brightened up. "The Lake District, I remember! God, we planned so hard for this."

"Yeah, and it's all gone down the toilet," I said darkly. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well I wasn't in frickin' Colorado, that's for sure. How'd I get here?"

She really didn't remember anything. This could totally screw up everything I'd promised Sam and Dean. _This is not good…_

"We were hiking in England and found a stone circle. There was a fire in the middle, there were bones—_blood_? Do you not remember _any _of this?"

She only gave me a blank look in response. _Well, fuck…_

"I already went through this with her," Dean said, leaning over the backpacks separating us. "She doesn't remember anything."

I pointed at Dean's face. "You don't remember him? At all? Not even a little bit?"

"Before the past hour? No, but I know he's crazy."

Dean looked down with a smirk and tried to look offended.

"It's _Dean_. _Winchester!_ Come on, Kali, work with me here. I am _not_ singing the Sa—" I stopped, laughing in embarrassment as I almost admitted out loud that there was a song about Sam Winchester on YouTube. "Oh, God," I mumbled. "Oh, _God._"

"Hey," Kali put her hand on my shoulder – my good one, fortunately. "It's all right."

"No, it's not!" I protested. "It is _so_ not." I turned to Dean. "You wouldn't mind…not listening for a bit, would you?"

Dean smirked some more. "Not at all," he said, in a way the very clearly meant, "I'm totally listening to everything you say – _sweetheart_."

I was just going to have to say this as quietly as I could, but that didn't stop the urge to punch Dean in the face for being such a dick. "Kali, listen to me. You know I wouldn't joke about this. When we got through that stone circle, we traveled more than just 8,000 miles to Colorado. We switched worlds. This is supposed to be a TV show. Not like a show being filmed, but like this entire world is on TV in our world."

Kali stared at me. "You're crazy," she said, but her eyes were wide.

"No, Kali, I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm not. You saw that thing. Things like that aren't supposed to exist, but you saw it –"

"It almost ate me!"

I swallowed. "Exactly. So how far-fetched would it be to say that we traveled – oh, shit, Kali, it's 2005 now. It's not even 2009. We went back in time, moved to Colorado and now we're in a world that used to be a TV show."

Her mouth dropped open. "You're kidding, right?"

"Kali, this is not the time for kidding. Even I know that. Now, look. Sam and Dean are – uh, sort of professionals at this kind of thing? I don't know, but they seem to know what they're doing – but they can't really help us unless you remember something about the show. You used to watch it all the time."

She shook her head.

"Kali," I begged, struggling to keep my voice down. "Come on! You have the first three seasons on DVD! You _have_ to remember. You send me clips on YouTube over MSN and we watch them together. Kali, please!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," she said with a shrug. I sat heavily on the ground next to her and leaned my head back, taking deep, shuddering breaths. I'd found Kali – everything was supposed to be okay now. That was what I'd kept telling myself since I'd found out she was missing. It was what I'd wanted to believe. What I had to believe to keep myself going. But nothing was all right now, and I _still_ had to "keep going," if only for Kali.

I closed my eyes, rearranging my thoughts as I realized I'd been waiting to pass responsibility on to someone else ever since I'd woken up in Colorado. I took a deep breath and decided that I was just going to have to shoulder – _ha_ – responsibility a little longer until we could somehow figure out what was going on. I opened my eyes and felt a little bit better.

"Chris?" Kali asked. "Are you okay?"

"No," I said. "I'm scared. And I'm tired. And I really don't want to be here. I haven't showered for ages and everything I ever thought was real has just been put into jeopardy." I paused. "I feel like shit."

Kali laughed, which was the answer I was looking for. I turned to the backpacks beside me and started looking through them. "Ulysses here?"

"I don't know," Kali smiled. "Why?"

"I want some M&M's."

Dean grinned and pulled his bag out. "I have a few left," he said. "Here." He handed them over.

I took them out of his hand and looked him straight in the eye. "Thank you," I said, in utter seriousness. Kali snorted. "Shut up," I told her. "I need chocolate."

Dean started rooting through the bags. "What are you doing?" Kali asked.

"Looking."

"For what?"

Dean pulled out two L-shaped shadows and grinned. "These. Hey, Sam!" he called. "Check it out – flare guns."

Sam looked up from where he was kneeling beside the last body – a guy I didn't recognize, but assumed was the brother Haley and Ben were looking for. Apparently he was alive and – not "well," per se, but "alive," was good enough for most of us at the moment. Anyway, Sam stood up and grinned back. "Those'll work."

I handed off the M&M's to Kali and grabbed my water from my backpack. It was almost done – only a few mouthfuls left – but I headed over to Tommy anyway and gave it to Haley silently. She took it gratefully and helped her brother sip from the open lid.

I went back and rooted through the backpacks some more. There was a Gameboy, some food, a first aid kit and clothes. I took some granola bars and added them to my stash, regretting that we couldn't take the packs with us because they were too heavy and would almost definitely slow us down, and I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. I went through some other bags, including our own, and got some more water and found my M&M's. Kali hadn't eaten them all, I noticed happily. I stuffed it all in my daypack and stood up.

"Everybody ready?" Dean asked, giving a flare gun to his brother.

I gave Kali a hand up and nodded. Haley and Ben, supporting Tom, agreed. "Let's go."

Our escape was painfully slow. I knew how Kali felt about being left behind on camping trips – both of us were considered slow walkers – and somehow adopted this awkward, stop-start gait that allowed her to swing forward and gain as much distance as possible between hops. Even with that we couldn't match Tom's pace, though, and he wasn't going very fast. My mouth clenched in frustration.

Then we heard the growling.

"Sounds like someone's home for supper," Dean said.

_We'll never outrun it,_ I realized hopelessly, and cringed as Haley announced the same thought out loud.

Dean looked back at me and Kali. I shook my head. He looked at Sam. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, I think so."

I glanced between the two dubiously.

"All right," Dean said finally. "Listen to me. Stay with Sam, he's going to get you out of here."

"What're you going to do?" Kali asked.

Dean paused, then winked at her. I stared at him, not believing my eyes as he took a few steps forward and called out, "Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right – bring it on, baby! I taste _good._"

"Does he always do that when he volunteers to kill himself?" Kali muttered to me.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, this way," Sam said, leading us in the opposite direction.

"Wait," I said, actually reaching out and grabbing his arm.

"What?"

"_Was_ that what you were thinking?"

Sam paused, same as Dean, shrugged, and nodded.

"Oh." I let go and muttered sarcastically, "'Course it was."

Sam headed off down the corridor and Kali and I limped along, both shaking our heads in disbelief. When I noticed our twin reactions, I grinned. This amnesia was too good to pass up.

"So, you like Dean?" I asked.

"What?"

"You do. I can totally tell that you do."

"He's insane and annoyingly egotistical." She narrowed her eyes at me.

"You like his prit-ty blue eyes," I whisper-sang, shaking with laughter. Kali told me exactly what she liked about Dean, from his smile to his big-brother, self-sacrificing attitude toward everything. Personally, I still thought he was sort of an ass, but then again, she'd only shown me videos with titles like "Dean's Funniest Moments Season 1…" and apparently Dean was only funny when he was being an ass.

"I haven't even seen his eyes, Chris."

"Yeah, but I can tell that whole self-sacrifice thing turned you on." I grinned.

"That wasn't self-sacrifice. That was just his ego boasting 'I'm indestructible, come and get me.'"

"Yeah, that…turned you on." I grinned some more.

"Chris!"

"Twenty bucks says he'll start hitting on you soon as we get out of here."

Even she was laughing now. "Chris!"

She was hissing at me to shut up and I was giggling madly when we all heard the growl – closer this time, and more menacing. It took Kali and me a few more seconds to catch up with the group, but by that time Sam was already telling us to go back. Haley was protesting, and I almost joined her. I worked _hard_ to get as far as we did – I did _not_ want to go back the way we came. But, I wheeled around anyway, growling as Kali pressed down on my hurt shoulder for leverage. I felt like a rat in a maze as we limped back down the passageway.

After a few feet, though, I stopped and looked back. I was tired, and, I'm sorry to say, I was mad at Sam for making me backtrack. Kali nudged me forward, but I shook my head and stared stubbornly into the light behind us. I waited a few seconds in the gloom, then—

There was a flash and a roar, and Sam came running out of the light at top speed. "Shit," I muttered, and unslung my backpack and thrust it at Kali. "Put that on and get on my back," I said. "Now!"

Kali didn't ask any questions. Sam slowed down to tell me to hurry up (_Yeah, Sherlock, what does it _look_ like I'm doing?_) but ran with me anyway until we caught up with Haley, Ben and Tom.

"What happened back there?" I asked, panting.

"It saw me before I could shoot it," Sam said. "It moved too fast." He looked at me. "You said Dean shot it?"

"Yeah—" I started, but the Wendigo, closer now, roared. I shut up and ran faster. Dean was our only hope now – running was just delaying the inevitable.

I ran anyway, though. I was always good at procrastination.

Our time seemed to run out, however, when we hit a dead end. I turned around and tried to go back because there was another passageway off to the side that we didn't turn off on – but the Wendigo was too near. It was only twenty feet away – I couldn't remember it getting that close – but I had been too busy running.

My mind panicked. The thing really was from my dream, long thinness and red eyes and all. I dropped Kali and backed away slowly – and stopped.

* * *

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaand I'm totally going to blame the cliffhanger on Kat cuz she didn't want the chapters to be too long (whereas I believe there's no such thing) but there you have it. Originally this chapter and the one following it were all just squished into one, but we just split it up, so now you get two at once! Isn't that exciting? **

**Suggestions, questions, and critiques are all encouraged – so leave a frigging review already! :P**

**Norangutan and Silver-Eyed-Kat**


	5. I Hate Camping

**Chapter 5** – **Chris' POV (still)**

The Wendigo was huge. Its head brushed the ceiling even though it was hunched over. But it was painfully thin – thin enough for me to see around and behind it. And what I saw behind it was our savior: Dean Winchester. He was running forward with the flare gun aimed and ready, but I could also see he didn't want to shoot and miss. He was going to make that shot count.

_But Sam was at near point blank range when he shot,_ I realized. _If we want to kill this thing, it can't see Dean before he shoots – otherwise it'll just disappear off into that side passage!_ And then we'd be out of ammo and the thing didn't have to pick us off one by one anymore because we were all nicely grouped together, practically with a ribbon tied around our necks.

I made a split second decision – and couldn't resist the irony. "Kali, give me my backpack," I said calmly.

"What? Why?" Kali was already taking it off, however, and I grabbed it and ripped it open. Lying on top in plain view were my M&M's. "What are you doing?"

There were so many answers to that – "I've always dreamt of doing this," or "This is the stuff that dreams are made of," would have worked fine. Instead, I chose, "Fulfilling my wildest dreams." With that, I took careful aim and launched a pretty green M&M at the Wendigo.

It hit it in the eye.

"Oh, my God!" I shouted. "Haha, did you see that shot? That was one in a _million!_"

"Chris, what the hell is wrong with you?" Sam grabbed my arm and kept me from flinging a handful at the creature, which was roaring in pain and clutching its head.

"I'm playing catch. Introducing it to new foods? Jesus, Sam, look behind it," I explained finally, exasperated. I could see Dean five steps away with his gun pointed and everything. I wrenched my arm back and threw a handful at the Wendigo. "Take that, you anorexic sonuvabitch!"

The thing eyed me angrily, then put back its head and roared again – and this time I recognized it as a "Dinnertime!" call of the wild. To say my blood ran cold would be an understatement – it nearly froze in my veins. I almost dropped my handful of M&M's – but thought better of it and put them in my mouth instead. If I was going to go down, I was going down eating chocolaty peanuts.

The creature finished its roar and took a step toward me. _Where the hell was Dean?_ Sam, for some reason, took a step forward too and put his arm out in front of me. I stared at it dumbly. Like _that_ was going to help. "Dean?" I screamed, still looking down. "Any time now!" I glanced up and saw five very sharp and very lethal-looking claws headed straight toward my head. Suddenly a pack swung in front of me and I was falling backward onto somebody. The claws missed my head by a few inches. I felt their passing through the slight breeze in my hair.

Then there was a blinding flash of light and the Wendigo burst into flame. Of course, my panicky brain didn't immediately think of Dean, as it was too busy frantically checking over its own skin. I finally realized that it was Kali who had pulled me back and threw the bag on my chest to protect me.

I pushed the bag off and stared at the thing burning at my feet, realizing just how close I'd come to dying. I started to laugh.

"Chris?" Kali rolled me off of her and looked concerned. "You okay?"

"I am such a fucking retard," I giggled hysterically. "I tried to throw fucking M&M's at a fucking Wendigo."

"That was some quick thinking, though," Sam said quietly. "If it had noticed Dean coming up behind it, it would have just disappeared like it had with me."

I giggled up at him, "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I notice your arm was real helpful in not getting me eaten. Thanks a lot." His face was a real study. I could only see half of it, but it was twisted into showing some weird emotions. He was amused, which was good – but also irritated at being called Sherlock. That was bad.

"Yeah, great job, Chris," Haley praised, still holding her brother. "That really took some guts."

"Yeah, best friend who saved her life is crippled here," Kali shouted in annoyance, still lying on her back.

I smiled and pulled her up, embracing her tightly.

"Thanks, Kali," I said quietly. "I really would be dead if it wasn't for you."

_Then again, I wouldn't feel this way if _someone_ had shot the thing quicker. _Suddenly I was angry.

"Hey, Dean!" I called over Kali's shoulder. "You couldn't pull that trigger any slower, could you?"

"What?" Dean asked, snapping out of his reverie while looking at the smoldering Wendigo at his feet.

"You stood there for _ages._ What the hell took you so long?"

He grinned and shrugged. I shook my head. I didn't care. Nothing mattered. I was alive. Kali was alive, Sam and Dean and Haley and her brothers were alive… Everything was peachy.

But I was more than ready to get out of there as soon as possible.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

The moment we emerged out of the stale, dark atmosphere of the mine, I raised my face to the sky and soaked up the sun, taking a huge breath of fresh air. It never felt so amazing. I almost wanted it to pour down rain, washing away all the grime and stink from hanging in that slaughter house.

"Hey, Kali?" I looked at Chris, still supporting my arm around her shoulder. "Let's go." She half-smiled, and I nodded contentedly. We started to hobble after the others, and I focused on the ground in thought.

My first real life-threatening experience, and I was glad it was with Chris. She really took care of me back there, and she was genuinely scared for me. That she had the courage to follow those guys into an old mine with a monster inside really showed me how determined she was. She didn't give up, and I was both proud and grateful. She really was my best friend.

Walking on one leg was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and slippery logs and inconspicuous stones proved to be a huge nuisance. More than once I was forced to put weight on my ankle so I wouldn't fall over.

"How much further?" Chris asked out of concern for me.

Sam and Dean both turned around in time to see me trip over a root, and this time falling over sounded a bit better than landing on my ankle again. Chris wasn't expecting it, and tried to catch me too late. I hoisted myself up and leaned against a tree, wincing at the throbbing in my foot.

"Chris, loosen up my boot for me. It's probably really swollen by now," I grimaced, and she slipped the pack off her back and leaned down.

"How's it doing?" Dean asked, approaching us. Chris slipped off the boot and pulled the sock down carefully, just enough to get a look at the ankle. She hissed at the sight of it.

"Not good," she answered. "Damn, you really twisted that, Kali."

I looked down and saw how swollen it was, and how red. Not bruised, thankfully. That meant that nothing was broken. Sam appeared next to his brother as if by magic and leaned to inspect it.

"Dean, she can't keep walking on that. It'll only make it worse," he said, looking up at his brother.

"All right then, I'll carry her," Dean opted, and I felt an uncomfortable twinge in my chest, mostly of pride. I didn't really like the image of me being hauled around. Something about always being the weakest in the group had me eager to do things on my own. Prove my worth, and the like. But I was hungry, exhausted, and in pain.

"No, I'll carry her, Dean. You're still hurt," Sam offered instead.

"I'm fine, Sam. I got it. You lead."

The brothers shared a look, and Sam gave up with a light shrug. Chris put my boot back on and tied it loosely. Dean then turned his back to me and bent his knees a bit.

"Hop on my back."

I pushed off the tree and put my arms over his shoulders, and he had his arms poised to hold my legs.

"I thought you were hurt?" I taunted with half a smirk, noticing that he had been holding his side earlier, grimacing every now and then when he bent over or stepped down in a root bed.

"Had you worried, huh?" was his reply, and I rolled my eyes again, jumping off my good leg and letting him hoist me in position. I let out a surprised gasp when he pretended to drop me, then glared menacingly over his shoulder, hearing him chuckle.

"I don't like you," I growled.

"All right, let's go," he announced, and we moved on. "Few hours to town."

They were some tedious few hours. Riding piggy-back never felt so nerve-racking. Every time Dean walked down a steep hill or crossed a stream I tensed up, because he always stumbled at least once – and not always on purpose, either. Although I could tell he was hiding the pain in his side, occasionally he did let out a pained grunt, and would pause for a moment to deal with it before moving on. I could see him being caught off guard and stumbling on a tree root.

"Please don't fall," I muttered, as he was island hopping from rock to rock in a stream.

"Calm down, Kelly," he reassured. "It's just a stream."

"It's _Kali_." I grumbled, just as he stepped foot on the shore. His head turned as if to look at me, which was a little awkward when my nose almost brushed his ear. The proximity of our faces was intimate enough, but I still gave him my withering look. "Watch where you're going."

"Damn, you're bitchy," he snickered, moving on.

"If you hadn't teased me before I wouldn't be so paranoid."

There was a laugh behind me and I glanced back to see Chris. She was enjoying the conversation. Then it occurred to me, when he turned his head and I actually got a close up look at him. I turned back to Chris and said quietly: "His eyes aren't _blue_." She shrugged and stuck her tongue out at me, then fell back to walk with Haley and her two brothers. Tommy was still sinking in and out of it, so she made a note to check on them every now and then to see if they needed help. Total silence lingered among the group for a while after that.

It was about thirty minutes later, and by then the sun was really high in the sky. I was beginning to wonder if Tommy was tired. He wasn't in any better shape than me, if not worse, and I was concerned. Haley and Ben seemed to be doing a good job of keeping him going, though. Together they took a lot of the struggle out of moving for him, but I felt we needed to stop and rest for a bit. At least to give him water and some food. I was feeling pretty ravenous myself.

An animalistic huff sounded ahead of us, and Dean froze. I heard everyone else stop behind us and stared at the brush ahead. It rustled ominously as though something was moving through it. Something big.

Very big.

I could see a furry brown hunch over the top of it, and soon enough a bear emerged, facing away from us. Suddenly it stood on its hind legs, towering at god knows how high. I didn't notice – I was more focused on its claws.

"Check out the size of that friggin' bear," I whispered, and Dean turned his head slightly with this awed look on his face, but quickly turned back to the grizzly.

It was sniffing the air, not a good sign. We probably had some pungent stuff coming off of us after being in that mine.

Its head turned straight to us.

I felt Dean tense and saw his jaw clench, like he was in pain.

"Kali, my side," he grumbled quietly, and I realized I'd been squeezing my legs around his waist harder than I should, and tried to relax.

"Sorry."

The bear got back down on all fours and took a step forward, still sniffing at us.

"We can't outrun a bear, Dean," Sam whispered beside us.

"Get the shotgun out of the bag," Dean said in the same tone.

I heard the careful movements of Sam, slipping the duffle bag off his back and slowly unzipping it.

"You're not gonna kill a bear with a shotgun," I whispered.

"Would you rather I just drop you? All I gotta do is outrun you."

I glared at him.

"Anymore cripple jokes and I'll bite your ear."

"Whoa, there, Tyson," he chuckled. "Besides, like I said before, I think I look a little more appetizing." He gave me the same smirk and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I don't think it could get its jaw around your big head."

Suddenly the bear had our full attention as it lumbered closer – and then the unexpected happened. The grizzly made one last huff and sneezed, stared at us blankly, then made a long low groan and turned to walk the other way. When its heavy footsteps faded to a safe distance, we all relaxed and sighed in unison. I pressed my forehead to Dean's shoulder in exhaustion.

"I'm never going camping again," I mumbled.

"No complaints here," Chris announced. "Jesus, and I thought we'd just escaped the thing that wanted to eat us."

* * *

I winced as the paramedic began prodding at my head with her fingers, checking for any lumps or bruises. There was definitely a painful something just above my right temple, and she gently pulled the hair back to see it better.

"Yeah, you bumped your head, all right," she stated, reaching for the kit she had laid out on the gurney I sat on. "But you don't…" I winced again as she dabbed it with alcohol, "appear to have a concussion. So I think you'll be fine," she finished with a reassuring smile.

"Thanks." I smiled solemnly in return, and she pulled off her gloves and handed me some crutches.

"Stay off the ankle for a couple of weeks, and keep it elevated."

"Alrighty." I fit the crutches under my arms and got up, heading straight for an ambulance where I saw Chris. She was saying goodbye to the siblings, and Haley had just hopped in with Tommy and Ben. When I reached the doors I was greeted by Chris, and looked in to see Tommy on a gurney, looking very unwell, but alive. He gave me a weak smile.

"Get back to Maryland safely," he croaked, and I nodded.

"Stay away from those bears," I returned in kind, earning another smirk.

"Thank you for your help," Haley said. "We're very grateful."

There was a pause as Chris opened and closed her mouth, struggling. "Um, yeah," she said finally. She cringed visibly and called out as the doors shut, "Anytime!"

I kicked her with my crutches. "Chris! She was being nice!"

"I know…" she moaned, her head in her hands. "I just… didn't have anything to say." After a moment, however, she started giggling. "_'Any time?_' Did I seriously just yell that out loud?"

"Yes," I replied, trying to be angry and failing. I was grinning now, as usual.

"I am so socially retarded." Chris put her head back in her hands and groaned. "God."

We stood in silence as police cars and medical vehicles flashed their lights around us. Finally, Chris looked at me.

"I can't believe we just survived the most life-threatening expedition of our lives."

I snorted. "Yeah, and it was almost a happy ending, too." I started turning myself around and heading back.

"What do you mean, almost?" She followed me as I stumped along.

"Well, I got this bump on my head and this ankle, and you – wish you'd told me earlier, so I wasn't leaning on you the entire time – you got that dislocated shoulder." I glared at her.

She grinned. "We're alive, aren't we? I think that makes it a pretty happy ending in most people's books. Mine, anyway." Shrugging, she added, "Besides, Sam fixed it fine. The medic said so."

"All right," I conceded offhandedly, looking for Dean and Sam. I finally spotted them sitting on the hood of a car.

Chris grabbed my arm. "Holy shit," she whispered, eyes alight. "I totally forgot about the car."

"What?"

"It's a 19-sixty-something Chevy Impala, and it's _gorgeous_." Her hand squeezed my arm painfully. "Oh, my God. Do we get to _ride_ in it?"

"Probably. I mean, if it's their car we can just ask—"

"Oh my God!"

"Chris, let's go." I shook my arm away and headed toward the vehicle. I'd never known her to be so squealy over a _car_.

"So what did you tell the cops?" I asked Sam as we approached.

"Told them you took a private trip into Blackrock, and you were there when we got there. Then I told them you were traumatized by the whole ordeal, so they shouldn't ask questions. After all, it was only a bear attack," was his joking response. "Better than stumbling into a magic circle."

"No argument there." Chris stood aside, gazing at the car. She snorted and broke out of her trance. "Or that stupid psychic story. Ugh."

There was an awkward silence.

"So what now?" I asked generally.

"Well…" Dean huffed, crossing his arms. "I think we deserve a thank you, for starters."

Should have seen that coming, and I knew they deserved one. Dean particularly, seeing as he carried my whining ass all the way back to town without dropping me, and with a hurt side, as much as he denied that. What a trooper.

Chris, on the other hand, stared at him in disbelief. "Thank you? For what? Being here in the first place so we could drop in on you?" She paused, thinking. "All right, so I guess you can't really help existing. But we worked together back there. And we were all trying to get rid of that thing. So I'm not saying thank you for something I had a hand in and I'd expect from you anyway."

"Hey," Dean said angrily. "If you want us to just leave you here, I'd be more than willing to do it."

"No!" Chris's reply was out before Dean had finished his sentence. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Thank you, Dean, and thank you, Sam, for doing your job. I couldn't expect any less." Dean glowered at her. "_All right_, and thank you for even considering taking us on, too. I can see you're not happy about it, so yeah. Thanks." It was grudging, but it sounded genuine. Better still, it seemed to satisfy both brothers because they turned to me expectantly.

"Thank you, Sam, for the rescue," I said to him, with a long pause just to get a reaction from Dean, and upon seeing the look on his face continued quickly before he popped a lid. "And thank you, Dean, for taking care of me, even if I did give you hell."

He visibly relaxed back on the hood of the car, a hint of triumph in his posture.

"You're welcome," he said.

Chris glared at him for a moment before adding bluntly, "So really, what now? We got no bank account, no vehicle, not even social security numbers."

"We decided we can let you tag along with us. For now," Sam answered. "At least till we can get something established so you can take care of yourselves."

Chris and I looked at each other. I was surprised, but she was excited.

"So we _do_ get to ride in the car?" she asked.

"Chris!"

"What? I'm just making sure! I mean, just _look_ at it!" She grinned. "Come on, Kali, I know you love it."

For the first time I actually glanced at the car, then did a double take. I hobbled around to where Chris was to observe it at a different angle.

"Yeah, it's a beast," I agreed.

Chris smiled ecstatically. "I know, right?" She laughed. "God, when Dean said he'd just leave us here if we didn't say sorry—"

"If _you_ didn't say sorry," I corrected.

"Shut up. Man, I got so scared…" She headed off to the other side of the Impala.

"That you wouldn't get to ride in the car?" I raised my eyebrows at her antics.

"Yeah!" Chris grinned over the roof of the car as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. "I wouldn't say it for anything less."

"I heard that!" said Dean, already in the passenger seat.

Chris slid in behind him and shut the door. "I'm sorry, Dean, it's just – It's such a beautiful car," she simpered, only half joking.

"Yeah, all right." Dean shifted in his seat. "Come on, Sammy!"

I shoved my crutches into the back and sat down. Sam closed the door for me, then slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

The Impala roared to life, and already I was sinking down the leather seat and closing my eyes against the window. Chris let me prop my foot up on her lap, and it wasn't long before I passed out in the backseat. We drove off down the road and into the night.

* * *

**A/N: So that concludes the first episode/part of our story, which we hope you enjoyed. Our plan is to sort of tag along with Sam and Dean on their adventures and have as much fun with it as possible. We won't do ALL of the episodes though, just the ones we feel can be made entertaining with our characters, and maybe invent a few episodes of our own (staying true to the plot of the show, of course). **

**We're pumping out ideas constantly, and have thought as far as season 4 (partly why we don't wanna do EVERY episode, cus that would take a while). **

**So yeah, we'll start working on our next idea, and in the meantime tell us what you love/like or dislike about the story. We might have posted it just for the fun of it, but we want some feedback, too! Thanks for reading =)**

**Silver-Eyed-Kat and Norangutan**


	6. Impala

**Chapter 6** – **Chris's POV**

I shifted uncomfortably in the back seat. Kali was sleeping beside me, her ankle still in my lap. I couldn't lay down without disturbing her, and I couldn't really sleep without laying down. I wanted to rest, but based on this logic I was apparently denied that privilege. I opened my eyes.

Sam was leaned all the way back in his seat, but he wasn't sleeping either. He had his head turned toward the window and I could see his face in the side view mirror. His eyes stared out at the trees passing by on the other side of the glass, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing them. His face wasn't exactly expressionless, as his lips were pressed into a thin line and his brows were drawn together angrily, but his mind was definitely on something else. He had that same look on his face as when I'd seen him in the forest earlier – that morning? Had everything really only happened today?

I took in a deep breath to sigh, but held it suddenly as Dean began to speak.

"Sam?" he asked quietly. "Sammy?"

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back just after Sam's mouth eased and he turned to his brother and declared, "It's Sam."

"Yeah," Dean smirked. I could hear it in his voice. _Smarmy. Hmph._

"What do you want to talk about?" Sam sighed.

"Kali and Chris." _I knew it._ If I were a cat, my ears would have pricked forward.

Sam shifted in his seat. He was interested, too. "What about them?"

I could barely hear them over the engine. I settled back uneasily and listened as hard as I could as the two brothers murmured over the sound of the road. Obviously they didn't want to wake me – well, either of us in the back. I'd have to settle for eavesdropping.

"We can't just take them along with us, Sam. It's too dangerous."

"Chris said that Kali might know where Dad is – and what killed Mom! If we could just get her to remember—"

"Sam, she got hit in the head. She can't remember anything."

"Dean—" Sam huffed. "Chris was right. They have nothing, not even social security numbers. Not even fake IDs could help them there – they have no background, nothing anyone could check for a job, for anything."

"We don't know that," Dean muttered.

"I Googled them as soon as I had a connection on my phone. Nothing."

"Aw, come on. How common a name is Chris Adams, anyway?"

"Very, actually. '_Christine_ Adams,' on the other hand, is slightly less common and brings up fewer guys." Sam was smiling.

Dean was silent. If I opened my eyes, I could probably see him giving his younger brother a look.

Sam sighed and continued, "'Kali Doherty' shows up once, but the woman is in her thirties and from Ohio. There's no one with her name – just 'Kali' – from Maryland."

"Damn. We need to get into some real records. FBI, CIA, that kind of crap."

_Are they seriously talking about hacking into FBI files? Can they do that? Who _are_ these people?_ My eyes flew open and I stared at the back of their criminal heads.

"Or we could just look into their files from their colleges."

_That's better than CIA files. They'd probably get more information there anyway…What am I thinking? _Neither_ is legal! I'm riding in the back seat with a bunch of felons! Kali never said that they broke the law!_

"Or we could do that."

_On second thought, how else would they get around? I mean, that dagger Sam used to cut Kali down… I've only ever seen stuff like that in collector's shops kind-of-things. Those are supposed to be fake, though, but the one he used worked _really_ well. If they have weapons like that on them regularly, what else are they capable of? They have to fight demons _somehow_, don't they?_

"See, what I don't get is why they tried the sci-fi approach. I mean, why the future? Couldn't they have just said that they – I don't know, dreamed the whole thing?" Sam sounded annoyed.

"I thought you said you believed them," Dean said.

"I do, it's just– Man, all the things we've ever dealt with before have been paranormal, you know? Legends everyone has heard of for centuries. Time travel isn't…any of that. Time travel is – is…"

"Yeah, I get what you're saying. It's scientific…"

"It's scientifically plausible, right. Demons, ghosts, all that other stuff…It's supernatural. It's not…" Sam paused.

"Corporeal?"

Sam sighed. "No, Dean. It's not corporeal." He leaned back in his seat and mused aloud, "Demons are just beings from another world, aren't they? And time travel – that's been a dream for humanity for generations. Wanting to change the past is a common theme in legends and myths. It's kind of a crazy theory, but what if they really did travel through time?"

"What, like in a time machine?"

"I don't know. I just can't see any other rational explanation."

"Cute idea, Sammy, but it still doesn't explain how they got here."

"Dean, all I'm saying is that it's possible for them to be telling the truth. And that we have to take care of them until we find something to do with them."

"But we can't just drag them everywhere with us."

"We're not going to take them hunting. We'll just keep them around, help them get back on their feet, and if Kali happens to remember anything about Dad or what happened to –"

"Sam, you –" Dean exclaimed loudly, then stopped and hissed, "You can't seriously want them around just so you can find Jessica's killer!"

There was a pause as Sam stuttered indignantly. "That is not what I'm saying!" he announced finally.

Even I could tell he was lying.

"Yeah, whatever, Sam." Dean shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that."

"I'm not! Dean, they're in trouble. They need our help. We can't just drop them off somewhere and let them fend for themselves."

"Yeah, well… This was so not in the job description," Dean muttered.

Sam snorted. "Yeah it was. You said it yourself – 'Saving people.'"

"Yeah, by 'hunting things.' We were supposed to save them by making sure there weren't things out there to kill them. By my standards, they're not dead –" Dean looked back suddenly, as if making sure he wasn't wrong. Our eyes met, and I knew I was in trouble. I tried smiling.

It didn't help.

"How much of that did you hear?" Dean asked angrily. Sam spun around.

"Only a little," I lied. "Around the time you started raising your voices…"

The brothers glanced at each other. I sighed.

"You should go back to sleep," Sam told me. "We were done talking anyway."

"But what did you say?" I asked darkly. "I mean, thanks for agreeing not to 'just drop us off somewhere' and all, but I'd still like to know what you are going to do with us."

"What do you mean?"

"Look. I don't have a home. I tried calling earlier, when the paramedics came – one of them lent me her cellphone and I told her I was calling home to tell them I was all right…" Which was true, in a way. But there had been no answer. "I hung up eventually but had a conversation with myself so she wouldn't ask questions. There's no one at my house – either of them, in England or in Maryland."

"Wait, why would your house be in England?" Dean asked.

"If it's 2005, I'd be living there right about now. I'd be getting ready to move back to the states. We had an internet phone, so I could technically call Maryland and get through to England. But nobody picked up. Nobody's there! And we didn't go on any vacations after April that year – this year. Whatever. We were packing, getting rid of things..." I paused, trying to get my thoughts together. "Kali and I have nowhere to go. We'd have to start our lives again with no credentials, no records, no background, nothing! I can't work at Burger King for the rest of my life – not without my family, with only Kal to know what happened to me! You drop us off somewhere…We're totally alone. I'd go nuts, trying to explain – or not explain, I don't know which is worse – just…This. This is crazy. This is impossible, and the only people who are willing to believe any of it are you. I'm sorry, but – I don't know about Kali – but I… I…" _I can't give that up. _

Sam looked at me steadily and nodded in understanding. Dean glanced back, embarrassed yet irritated. "You know, we're not the only hunters out there."

"Well, good. That's perfect! You can teach us how to hunt by ourselves and then we can –"

"NO!" they both said together. Kali stirred.

"Well, what else can we do?" I hissed. "If anything, we'd have a head start on you two, considering _we_ can't be traced." I looked over at Kali. Why was I trying to decide her future while she slept? Shouldn't she have a say in this? _But she looks so peaceful, sleeping. I don't want to have her wake up to all this…_

I stopped when I realized that this was exactly what Sam and Dean had been trying to do to me. Protect us, somehow, by not telling me their plans for us. As if knowledge was a bad thing – was being incapable of making an informed decision better or worse than making mistakes? _Worse_, I decided, _because then you make mistakes _and_ feel stupid._ "Hey Kali," I said finally, shaking her good leg. "Wake up. We gotta talk."

"No, don't –" Dean started, but Kali was already groaning.

"I've been awake. Could you guys be any louder?" She scowled, wincing the moment she shifted. "God, I'm so sore."

"Sorry. We were just trying to figure out…" I started, but she pushed herself up and waved her hand in annoyance. She probably didn't like being woken up with such a stupid conversation.

"I know what you were talking about, and it's fucking stupid." Stupid conversation. Got it.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. I rolled my eyes at Kali. This was probably not the time to start bitching at one another.

"Did 'finding a way home' cross your mind?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not exactly an option at the moment." I frowned at her.

"It is an option, and a damn good one from where I'm standing."

"You're not standing, Kali," I noted helpfully.

She glared at me. "What I'm saying is, I've had my fair share of 'little world of horrors.'"

I opened my mouth to say that the rest of us had had our fair share of 'little world of horrors,' too, and I, for one, was trying to deal with the fact that it wasn't even supposed to be _real_. Then I realized that this would have just about no effect whatsoever on Kali, who didn't even remember how fake this world was. "Kali, look. I just don't see how it would be possible for us to go back, since we don't even know what got us here. And besides, it's not as if this place really is all that bad –"

"Yes, it is," Dean blurted out. "And it's not a place for some preppy college girls."

"Dean!" Sam hissed as I gaped in open-mouthed astonishment at the total dickhead driving the car.

"Says the loser who thought we came from a time-machine," Kali came back, burning a hole in the back of his head.

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem? If you want to get rid of us so much, why don't you just teach us enough to let us defend ourselves while we go find whatever got us here?" My voice rose with every syllable.

"Ruling out the time-machine theory, 'cause that's just fucking _stupid_," Kali emphasized in his direction.

"All right!" Sam split the argument, and we fell silent to hear what he had to say. "Bottom line: you're sticking with us for now. We'll try to help you find a way home."

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean banged the palm of his hand on the wheel. "We don't have time to babysit! We gotta find Dad and they're just gonna get in the way, or worse get killed!"

"So teach us to defend ourselves! All you gotta do is – is – I don't know, teach us to shoot silver bullets at shit, and then you let us go! We're out of your hands, and you don't have to worry about us anymore!" Why was he being so stubborn?

"It's a lot more than aiming a gun and shooting, sweet—"

"_Don't _call me sweetheart!" I snarled. It might even have come out as a roar. Whatever it was, the silence following it was deafening.

"Chris, calm down," Kali ordered perfunctorily. "We're adults here, Dean. We can handle it – we're _trying_ to handle it. Quit talking down to us, all right? We're just trying to figure out what to do, but all you're telling us is that we're not smart enough, or good enough, or tough enough, or whatever. And that's bullshit."

"Dean," Sam said quietly. "Let's just take them with us, all right? It's too dangerous to leave them out on their own. We can look for Dad and after them at the same time. We can even take turns teaching them how to – to defend themselves."

The older brother was silent for a long time – or maybe it was only a short time and I was holding my breath. I don't know. The thing was, he had to think way too long about my worth – or at least both Kali's and mine put together – to decide whether to take us on or not.

"Fine," he said finally. "Fine, you can come with."

Kali and I looked at each other, neither of us completely satisfied with his answer, but at least he'd given in to part of the argument. I snorted in disgust. Kali slumped in the seat again and adjusted her foot on my leg, crossing her arms and scowling at the leather for a moment before closing her eyes to sleep again. The ride was silent from then on.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

I woke up when the car stopped. Chris was looking out the window at the hotel front we'd just pulled up to. I pulled my ankle off her lap and she twitched, startled. She looked exhausted.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked.

She shrugged as she got out of the car. "No." She stumbled around to my side and helped me out as Dean and Sam went to the trunk and got the duffel from the trunk.

"Dude," Dean said to his brother as Chris and I limped past him, "We're gonna need another bag. We left the other one in the mine."

Sam nodded. "We'll need some stuff for Chris and Kali, too," he said, glancing at us. "They don't have anything besides what they're wearing."

I watched them over my shoulder as Chris held open the door for me. A bell tinkled overhead and a greasy thin man came out from behind the counter.

"Two rooms, four beds," Chris said as the door closed, then added, "Please."

"Four?" the greasy man repeated.

Chris flicked her eyes to the two Winchesters shouldering their way through the glass front door. "Yes, definitely. _Four_."

"Okay, then. How many days will you be staying, and will that be cash or credit?"

Dean pushed forward. "Here," he slid a Visa across the counter. Chris, however, lost her balance and stumbled sideways. Sam reached forward and caught her before she fell into me and knocked me over.

"Careful," he warned. Chris merely shrugged him off, yawned, and headed over to stand next to me.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked. She'd barely even blinked when Dean bumped her, and she wasn't normally that rude to people like Sam.

Chris snorted. "Well, _I_ wasn't going to pay." She yawned again, wider. "But I am really tired."

"Here," Sam said, handing Chris a key. "Uh, there's nowhere open this time of night. I asked. We'll have to wait until tomorrow morning before we can find some clothes for you."

"Okay," I said tiredly, watching the key in Chris's hand. "That's fine." I started to go.

"Wait, no –" Chris started, looking from me to Sam. "No, no, I don't want to go to sleep in this. That's disgusting."

"Quit whining and suck it up," I told her, nudging her with my crutch. "Come on."

Chris followed me, still protesting while opening the door and flipping the light switch. Then suddenly she lost her sluggishness. "I call dibs on the bathroom!"

I was sitting down on a bed trying to get my boots off. "Whatever, I want to soak in a tub anyways!" I called, but the door was already closed. "Chris!"

I heard a single, self-satisfied "Ha!" from inside, but nothing more until the shower started. I growled in frustration and ripped off my boots, slowing down only when I remembered how much my ankle hurt when I twisted it. Then I lay down on the bed and sighed in contentment. Give me a mattress and a pillow and I'm in heaven.

I'd nearly dozed off when Chris came out of the shower. She was wearing her Underarmor inside out and toweling her hair. "Your turn," she announced. "But could you hurry up? I want to talk to you when you get out."

I sat up and hopped over to the bathroom, ignoring my crutches. So that was why Chris took the shower before me – she knew that if I went first I'd fall asleep by the time she got out. I climbed in the tub and let the hot water rise to within inches of the top of the bath. I sighed again, warm, clean, comfortable…

I don't know how long I was in there, but it felt good and the water was just getting cool when I climbed out. Chris was already dead to the world when I opened the door to the bathroom, which was just as well since I didn't think either of us was in any condition to talk. She had, however, given me one of her pillows so that I could prop my foot up while I slept. I switched off the light and fell into bed gratefully. I don't remember a thing afterwards.

* * *

I woke up with the sun, as usual. Not at dawn, of course, but between sunrise and eight-ish. It was no surprise that I imagined I was in my own bed, and whatever happened was a vivid dream. I wished it was. I was stretching when my stomach gave a high pitched growl, and I rubbed it soothingly. When was the last time I ate?

Someone started knocking on the door, and I glanced at Chris, hoping maybe she'd wake up and take the liberty of rolling out of bed and answering, but she wasn't disturbed at all. I sat up, stiff as an old lady with sore joints and aching muscles, and limped to the peephole. It was Dean. I sighed.

"Yes?" I opened the door a crack.

"Going to get breakfast. What's your order?" he asked politely. I noticed he had taken the stitches off his face, and that other than the cuts (unlike me probably) he didn't look like the encounter with that monster had any physical effect on him.

I glanced back at Chris, still dead as a log on the bed, and remembered how tired she was. I'd let her sleep.

"I'll just come with you. I know what she likes," I said in my morning voice. "Just gimme a sec."

I closed the door without waiting for his response, and limped back over to the bed to put on my boots. A minute later I had the room key in my pocket and the crutches under my arms. He was still there when I opened the door.

We didn't say anything to each other in the car. After a few moments, Dean put some music on to drown out the silence. Strangely enough, it helped. I felt much more at ease when we pulled up to the parking lot than when we'd left the hotel. We were in the restaurant and out fairly quickly, bags full of hash browns, bacon and sausages, eggs, etc. It was another slightly awkward silence on the way back, till he decided to break it.

"You seem to be in a better mood," he stated, and I glanced at him a little guiltily. I was pretty nasty the day before, which isn't my usual self, but circumstances change everything, right? The spitting contest between all of us on the road last night certainly didn't improve first impressions. Now that I had a good night's sleep, a bath, and some food, I felt like an apologetic compromise was in order.

"I'm not usually like that. Bad day on top of bad day, you know?"

He just nodded a little. "I've dealt with worse people."

I looked at him questioningly, not quite sure if that was an insult. Maybe a compromise wasn't due if he was going to be like that.

He saw my look and smirked. "Hey, it's not as bad as it sounds."

"What?"

"Last night. It's not that I don't think you'd make a good hunter," he said a little more seriously, and I waited for him to give me his reason, but he didn't appear to have one prepared.

"I get it," I said, and I did. It was a family thing. There wasn't much to show for it yet, but I could tell that Dean was a family man. Not in the fatherly sense, but when he mentioned finding their dad the night before it showed me a side of him I didn't expect on first impressions. Chris and I were not meant to be a part of that family business. Like he said, we would just get in the way, and I understood that frustration. "I got family too. God knows I'd go to hell and back for them. I get why you don't want us around."

He looked at me differently then, with a new regard for my character, I suppose. I guess we were surprising each other with how we really acted without the dramatic adventure going on, and it felt good that there wasn't that awkward barrier that we built with the witty jabs and insults. There wasn't much more to say about it. That was our silent compromise: coming to a mutual understanding.

"So, how often do these 'jobs' pop up?" I asked to keep the awkward silence at bay again. He shrugged.

"Just one after another. Nothing really predictable about it, except there'll always be another monster."

I thought a moment about the term "monster." How many monsters were there? How many of the things in the myths and legends were actually real? It was a bit daunting to consider. They were fun to read about, but I didn't want to come face to face with an Exorcist situation. Little girls doing crab walks down stairs isn't something I want to see outside a screen.

"We're hunters. We go after the things that want to kill us – sometimes that means getting up close and personal. Sometimes somebody has to be bait."

I stared at him, wondering if he was trying to scare me. "Bait? Like, just sit there and wait to be killed?"

"Yup."

"You wouldn't do that with Sam," I said, and it almost sounded like a question. That smirk wouldn't leave his face.

"Well, no, not with Sam," he admitted. "If anyone's going to be bait, it'll be me."

"Well, aren't you the noble one."

We pulled into the hotel parking lot and went up to the rooms, and I walked in to see Chris still asleep on the bed. Putting the food down, I shook her awake again. I think the smell of the food was the only reason she decided to get up.

"Oh, my God. Real bacon," she mumbled. "_Thank you_."

* * *

**Chris' POV**

I felt so much better after showering, sleeping, and eating that I actually smiled when Dean and Sam came in the room after breakfast. I pushed back the empty Styrofoam container and leaned back.

"So, we had a talk," Sam started, gesturing to his brother, and that's when I knew things would go downhill.

"We can't let you be hunters."

Kali just shrugged and looked on passively, obviously satisfied about that ruling. I, on the other hand, was a little more... concerned.

"It's too dangerous. I don't know what you think you know about us from wherever you came from, but hunting isn't fun. It's hard, people die, things get bloody. Thing is, you'll get in the way and get hurt, and we have more…pressing things to do than prep you for that. It takes years to even be good enough to hunt on your own." Sam sighed. "You can stay with us, but we can't let you go off and get yourselves killed."

There was silence in the room. Everyone was looking at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"I don't know," Dean said. "Just thought you'd have something more to say about it."

"Well, _I'm_ fine with it," Kali said. I was surprised – I thought she would have taken my side in this. "I have no interest in being the damsel in distress ever again, and I'd like to see my family before I die, thanks."

I frowned and chewed the inside of my cheek. She made a good point. About the family, that is.

"Chris?" Sam was looking at me again. "Chris, what do you say?"

_What, like my permission is actually a factor in this? Oh, well._ "We'll try it your way," I said finally.

Dean narrowed his eyes at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, what are we going to do while you're out ghostbusting? Sit around in hotel rooms and watch TV all day?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth, then looked at Sam. Sam shrugged.

"We'll try to find how to get back home," Kali said firmly. "I'm sure we'll find _something_ on creepy pagan voodoo rituals."

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "We have sources you can use, and we'll help when we can."

It was a good thing I was rested and fed. This could very well have ended up with me screaming my head off at everyone for their pig-headedness. I cringed at the memory of last night's car ride, however, and kept my mouth shut.

"So is this decided? Are we done?" Dean asked impatiently, apparently annoyed that they even had to deal with this issue in the first place. It took every ounce of self control I had to just nod politely.

Sam looked relieved. They left a few minutes afterward, after telling us that we'd go shopping for clothes and other necessities after we checked out of the rooms. As the door closed, I heard Dean say, "Well, that was easy."

I closed the empty breakfast container and smushed it so it would fit in the trash can. Apparently I did it a little too violently because Kali asked, "Chris? You sure you're okay?"

I took a deep breath. "No," I admitted. "I'm not okay. What they're doing… What they've decided is sweet, but… impractical."

"What do you mean, 'impractical'?" Kali gave me a weird look. "I think getting home is _very_ practical."

"Using knowledge about the supernatural that they're deliberately trying to keep from us? I don't think so."

She just stared at me like I was insane, like I'd turned into something she didn't recognize anymore. It was pretty obvious she couldn't see where I was coming from.

"It's just…" I started, but I didn't know how to break it to her. "They can't keep us from their world. We're _in_ it. We're up to our ears in it. Hell, Kali, I'm _drowning_ in it. All this effort to keep us from what they do… I don't care how dangerous it is, I think it's even more dangerous for us if we don't know exactly what's out there."

"Will you stop talking like that?" she exclaimed.

"Like what?" I asked, bewildered.

"Like this is a game. Some dream you can just play around in. I almost got eaten alive. This is the real deal and you want to be a part of it? This may be fictional to you, Chris, but it's not to me, remember? It's obvious we don't _belong_ here."

"Of course we don't belong here! _Nobody_ belongs here! It's fake! At least, it's supposed to be… You know what, Kali? Before, I remember you showing me videos and talking about how cool everything here was. I was dying to see the damn show as soon as I could! It was _fiction_! This place – this entire world – shouldn't even exist, but _here I am_."

Kali watched me carefully as I paced up and down the room in front of the bed she was sitting on.

"Here _we _are," she corrected. "And _we _are all we got, and we have to look after each other, and I'm not gonna let you go jumping after a werewolf because you think it's _fictional_."

I almost laughed. "I _don't_ think it's fictional, Kali. That's the _problem_."

"Whatever. We're finding a way home, and you're coming with me whether you like it or not. You can watch the stupid show when we get back, if that will make you happy."

I stopped and gaped at her. "Watch the show if it'll make me happy? Kali, I can't watch TV ever again! If I go back, I'll keep wondering – how many other TV shows are real? What if – what if _all_ of them are? What would I do then? I can't begin to imagine what would happen if I thought that every TV show in the world was some alternate universe. What if _I_ was a TV show? Kali, I can't even define reality anymore and all anybody wants me to do is sit tight and… and… _watch television_."

She was speechless. I understood that she didn't understand, since I was spewing some pretty intangible stuff here. I took a deep breath and sat down for a minute before saying, "I'm not going to stop you from trying to get back home. That'd be stupid. I'll help in any way I can." I looked up from my feet. "But I can't promise that when we do find a way I'll take it. I don't think there is any going back for me."

Kali was silent for a long time, her expression grim. "You're insane. What about your family? Your brother, your mom, your dad? Don't you want to see them again?"

And of course she hit the most painful part of this whole ordeal. "Of course I do," I said quietly. "I'll always want to see them again. But… I can't tell them anything about this. There'll always be this huge gap between us." I sighed. "I don't want to live a life where I feel like I'm completely different from everyone else."

"Chris, that's exactly what you'd be getting into if you stayed here! You'd hunt monsters – you think normal people do that?"

"Well, no, but… I'm already a freak no matter what I do. Stupid stone circle guaranteed that, no problem. At least here I'd have something to do. Something _real_ to do. In our world, I'd just be alone – a freak with weird fantasies that belong only in fanfiction." I snorted. "Kali, if I go back now – or ever, in fact – I'll be farther away from my family than if I never see them again."

Kali stared at me. "You obviously haven't thought this through. You're not gonna live the rest of your life all by yourself, with no friends, no family, no background… nothing?"

I stood up and crossed my arms angrily. "Kali, I don't know how to put it more clearly than this: I can_not_ deal with my parents or my brother not knowing about this trip into _Supernatural_. If I don't tell them, I'll explode. If I do tell them, they'll think I'm nuts. Better yet, what if I go back and I find this really nice guy and we hit it off and it's going really well and then I want to marry him, but you know what? I'll always have this _thing_ between us where I'm a time-traveling-fiction-world-jumper _freak of nature_!" I glared at her. "Don't tell me I haven't thought this through, Kali. I've been thinking a _lot_ about this."

She shook her head and reached for her crutches. "Whatever. You'll change your mind." My jaw dropped in disbelief and fascination. I was astounded that she could listen to that whole spiel and still not see things from my perspective, and I was fascinated as to how completely she was willing to believe her own words. _But_, I thought, _when the time comes I'll actually make the choice. And she'll just have to deal with whatever decision I make._

We put the room together in silence. Then we went next door and got the boys to check us out and bring us to the nearest mall. Shopping was relatively uneventful. Dean did bitch a little over the combined cost of our clothes, toiletries, and the backpacks to carry it all in, but he got over it easily enough. I think Sam's elbow in his ribs might have helped a little. Then we got in the car – that gorgeous car whose backseat was absolute hell – and we drove for hours and hours to God-knows-where. I didn't ask questions. I didn't talk to Kali. I just sat in the back and thought.


	7. Out of Wisconsin

**Chapter 7** – **Chris' POV**

**One month later…**

I woke up to pounding on the door. I tried to ignore it, hoping the maid would come back later. The noise didn't stop, however. It just kept on going and going and going…

"Holy fucking God, it's 6:00 in the fucking morning!" I yelled, shoving my pillow into my ears.

"Chris!" Kali said exasperatedly, getting up finally and answering the door. "What?"

"Get up," Sam said, handing her a cup of coffee. "We got a job."

* * *

Groggy, I opened my eyes for the second time that day. We were speeding down the freeway, Sam and Dean in the front, me and Kali in the back. Dean was driving and singing along to AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_ and Sam was drinking coffee like there was no tomorrow.

"So, where're we going?" I asked Kali, rubbing my eyes. The sun was bright, shining right though the back windshield of the car.

"Pennsylvania," Kali answered, dragging her eyes away from the window. "Some guy they know called."

"Wow," I said. "That's informative."

"He didn't want to talk over the phone," Sam called back.

"Right," I muttered. Like someone was going to tap _our_ conversations.

I wasn't in a good mood. We were driving from this Lake Manitoc place in Wisconsin, where we'd just seen a man drown himself in order to save his grandson. I couldn't stop thinking about the moment when he'd gone under, and when Sam had come back up empty-handed. It bothered me, got under my skin like nothing I'd ever dealt with before.

Standing down a Wendigo with only a handful of M&M's and a smart mouth was one thing, but watching helplessly (albeit safely) from the sidelines as one man committed suicide was another. It scared the living crap out of me. I hated not being able to step in and do something, anything to help. Kali and I had just stood on that dock and waited – _waited_, for what seemed like _years_ for that man to surface. And he never did.

And I knew it was emo, I knew it was dramatic, I knew it was romantic and useless and fraught with emotion and silliness and everything I ever ridiculed as a level-headed, realistic woman, but… I couldn't help wondering that had I jumped in that lake, too, maybe Sheriff Jake Devins could still be alive.

Sheriff Jake Devins. I'd committed the name to memory without even realizing it, and now I couldn't get it out. It echoed in my head incessantly, and I hated it for what it was doing to me. I didn't even know the man – I'd never met him, never talked to him (Sam and Dean had made sure of that) – but I knew, deep down, that no one should have to die like he did, dragged under by the ghost of a dead boy thirsting for vengeance. And Andrea – who I _did_ know because we'd stayed our last night at her house – Andrea should never have had to deal with the dilemma she'd been given. Her father or her son, choose which one she'd rather have drowned? Either way she got the shitty end of the stick, and it was only by the grace of… I-don't-know-what that kept her from blaming Sam for not saving her father.

It put things into perspective, really. I finally realized that not everything one did as a hunter would inspire gratitude. Sure, hunters saved people's lives (one major plus in my book), but who ever said that those lives would be grateful? Dean's insistence on our thanking him and Sam before he let us into his car suddenly made a lot more sense.

But he was still an asshole for not letting us help. Kali and I had holed ourselves up in that cramped little motel room with books and papers and Sam's laptop, and I'd nearly gone insane. I was climbing the walls by the third day when the sheriff had finally evicted us from the town. I was almost relieved to get into that backseat again because at least _there_ the scenery moved. I mean, I was used to studying in college, but even then I was allowed to get up every few hours and stretch my legs, go outside, have a social life – something. Sam and Dean wouldn't even allow us that much… Or so I'd assumed. I hadn't actually asked, and I definitely wasn't going to because I was afraid of the answer I was pretty sure they would give.

I sat back against the window and sighed. The reason I thought they would say we weren't allowed to even step foot outside the damned motel room was because of the way they treated us our first night in Manitoc. They had given us rock salt – lots of it – and two very sharp, very lethal-looking knives.

"We doubt you'll need them," Sam had said, "but there's no harm in being safe."

I shook my head at the memory. Dean had explained that the knives were pure iron, and would get rid of most supernatural beings. It had been nice to think that maybe he had been entrusting us with real weapons, but he had made clear that these were to be used only in self-defense. "You are not to go out looking for monsters, all right? Just stay in here and figure out how to get yourselves home."

I hadn't said anything then, but boy I wish I had. He was just so…bossy and egotistical. I hated depending on him as my sole source – well, one of my sole sources – of information. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved having him save my butt in slaughterhouse caves in Colorado (if only because I liked actually having a butt to save), but making us depend on him like that… It really bothered me. If it was really so dangerous out there, I thought we should be able to make good decisions without his help. That's what I should have said. I should have told him that his own paranoia should be warning him about the dangers of leaving behind two "panicky preppy college girls" every time he went off to kill something evil. But I couldn't think that when all I wanted to do was kick him in the face, so I didn't say anything.

In fact, I hadn't really been speaking a lot lately. Kali and I talked a bit, sure, but it was never along the lines of "So, what have you decided?" I didn't mind, though. The truth was I hadn't decided anything. Just as I was sure I was going to stay and try to become a hunter – you know, save people's lives and get to use cool weaponry-stuff – I remembered my family and friends and my life with the job with decent pay and I had to start all over again. I was beginning to hope that maybe we wouldn't find a way home, and then I wouldn't have to decide at all. But I couldn't tell that to Kali. It was best just to leave things as they were – not reconciled, exactly, but at least smoothed over. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing.

I took a deep breath and looked out the window. I'd just slept another eight hours in the car (Kali's ankle had finally healed and I was allowed to lie down) and I was (again) bored out of my skull.

"Hey, Kal," I said suddenly. "Twenty Questions."

"Aw, jeez," she sighed.

"Hey. You got any better ideas?" I asked.

"…No."

"Good. You go first."

* * *

**A few hundred miles later…**

"Favorite thing about yourself."

Kali paused. "Ew. Next question."

"Aw, come on!" I begged.

"Uh…"

"I personally love my witty and quite entertaining sense of humor." I grinned.

"I really don't know." Kali shrugged.

"How can you not know?" I asked, surprised. "Come on, Kal – you're smart and pretty and fun – you laugh at my jokes. I can't fault you for that – well, maybe others can, but still… I mean, you have great hair," I snorted, because "great hair" usually makes me think of the 80's and outrageous poufy-ness, which was the exact opposite of Kali's scary-straight tresses, "and, um… lovely squinty eyes…"

"Chris!"

I laughed. Kali was always made fun of her for her "squinty-ness." Whenever she smiled, her eyes would crinkle up around the edges and you'd never see them again until she stopped laughing. Recently her tear ducts started acting up, too, so that whenever she smiled – she didn't even have to laugh now – her eyes would start leaking. Her left eye was especially bad. It just added fuel to the fire, for me. I thought it was hilarious.

"All right, all right. How about… Thing you miss most about England."

"The scenery."

"Oh, yeah," I smiled, remembering. "Yorkshire was nice – when it was sunny. Okay, hand sanitizer: good, or disgustingly gloppy?"

Kali gave me one of her "you're weird" looks. "Good," she said finally.

"Musicals: awesome or weird?"

Kali grinned. "Hmm…"

"Musicals are screwy, man," Dean announced. I didn't know he'd been listening. "Random singing and dancing – who does that?"

"Shut up, Dean," I said. "Musicals rock. I wish I could sing and dance randomly through life."

"I wish you could sing, too," Dean muttered, ostensibly remembering my previous attempts to join in during Boston's _Peace of Mind_.

While Sam snorted and tried not to laugh too hard, Kali said, "I like Disney movies. Those are musicals, right?"

"Sure," I conceded. There was a pause. "You know, you're allowed to ask stuff, too."

"Worst book you've ever had to read for school."

"Oh…" I tried to think. "I don't know, I've liked most of the books we've read since I got into college."

"High school, then."

"Ew," I made a face. "I…" I laughed suddenly. "I don't think I read any book I didn't like in high school. I just Sparknoted them if I thought they were stupid."

Kali glared at me. "Oh, yeah. And managed to pass me up in grades anyways."

I stopped laughing, embarrassed. "Well," I tried, "I hated _Things Fall Apart_. Oh – and _Night_. That was a horrible book. Favorite Pokémon."

"What?" Kali was thrown off-guard.

I grinned. "Favorite Pokémon. I haven't thought of them in _ages_. God, I'm a genius."

Kali laughed. "I have… no idea." She thought. "I like Vulpix – or Ninetails."

"Aw," I cooed, remembering Vulpix. "I like Squirtle. He was so adorable… All right. If you were an animal, what would you be?"

Kali thought for a bit.

"And why," I added, just to make things interesting.

"A dog," she admitted.

"A dog?"

"Because…" Kali's brows furrowed.

"That's so… boring…" I twisted my mouth in bemusement. "Why?"

"I dunno…" she looked sheepish.

"I wanna be a monkey," I announced. Kali laughed. "'Cause then I'd be me," I grinned, "but I'd have a _tail_."

Even Dean smiled at this.

"What would your Patronus be?" I asked.

Dean's smile vanished to be replaced with confusion. Sam whispered, "Harry Potter thing," as an explanation, and the confusion morphed easily into contempt.

I rolled my eyes. "Harry Potter was awesome," I insisted. "Except the movies. The movies suck." I stopped as a sudden thought struck me. "Whoah. Have they all come out yet?"

Dean snorted.

"Shut up, Dean," I said again, but let the question go anyway. "How about a good flavor for the Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans?"

"Chris, stop being nerdy."

"Apple-melon," I said stubbornly.

There was silence. I'd killed the conversation. I sat back in my seat and pouted.

"If you had to spend all eternity in a box with one person in this car, who would it be?" I mused darkly.

Kali snorted.

"Wouldn't be Sam, he'd take up too much room," I said aloud.

Kali and Dean snickered. Sam sounded offended. "Hey!"

"Not Dean, just because… it's Dean," I said, but low so only Kali could hear it.

"What was that?" Dean asked, glancing between us and the road.

"Nothing! And I don't think I could pick you, Kal, 'cause your eye would leak so much it'd drown us."

"And not you, because you're claustrophobic," Kali countered.

I frowned. "I'm not claustrophobic," I said. "I mean, I'd hate being cooped up in a box all day, but that's not claustrophobia, that's…boredom."

"Really?" Kali asked, confused. "Must have been somebody else who said that, then…"

"Ha!" I said, triumphant.

"I don't know," Kali said, smiling. "I can't think of a good reason why I couldn't stand being in a box with you."

That silenced me for a moment. "Thanks," I said, genuinely touched. Then I grinned. "Guess I'm just too cool to leave behind, then, huh?"

Kali smirked.

"As a pet: Armadillo or… snake?"

"Armadillo?" Sam asked, smiling.

"It's fun to say," I shrugged.

"Armadillo," Kali chose. "'Cause they're cute."

"Don't like snakes?" I asked. Kali didn't seem like the snake-hater type – but then again, neither did Indiana Jones.

"Nah, I like snakes. Held a python once."

I nodded in admiration. "Cool."

"Ugh, hate snakes." Sam shuddered.

I shot him a weird look, glad he couldn't see me. _He_ definitely didn't seem the Indiana Jones type. "If you had a phobia, what would it be?" I asked.

She snorted, how ladylike that she's done it the thousandth time this trip. "I would have to say dark caves with scary man-eating monsters in them are a major phobia of mine."

I nodded emphatically. She had no arguments there. "How about, you can only eat one country's food for the rest of your life. Whose do you pick? And no saying 'America, because that has everything,'" I added, grinning.

"Aw, man," Kali complained. "Okay… Italy. They have the best food."

"Excellente!" I gave a high five. "I _knew_ you were my best friend."

Kali laughed.

"Close second is India," I announced.

"Eh," Kali's smile faded a little. "Not so much."

"I don't care. Indian food is frigging _amazing._ Mexico and China are tied for third – I can't choose." I closed my eyes, thinking of all this good food.

"I like Chinese food," Kali agreed.

"And Germany's fourth, France is fifth, and Hungary's sixth." I curled into a happy little ball just remembering Hungary's goulash. "AND ISRAEL!" I remembered suddenly. "Oh, man, I totally forgot Israel."

Kali shook her head.

"Yeah," I finished, practically drooling. "Food's amazing. Food rocks. I love food."

"You guys hungry or something?" Dean asked.

"We can eat at the next rest stop," Sam suggested. "Or we can wait another hour. We're almost there."

I looked at Kali. "I don't mind either way," I said. I would have loved to get out of the car, but I didn't know if I could stomach getting back in. I was sick of sitting in one place like this for hours at a time.

"I vote we eat when we get there. That way we can stretch our legs." Kali, not following her own advice, slid down right then and put her feet in my lap. I grinned, and did the same to her. There ensued a small backseat war as to how we were going to both fit, which stopped only when Sam said he didn't want "to reach back there," and that made me feel extremely uncomfortable so I sat still immediately thereafter.

Kali raised her eyebrows at my reaction. I pointedly looked away. Kali smiled – all grin, no eyes. I started laughing, not only at her but also at the situation. After a moment she joined me, and we started giggling in the backseat over absolutely nothing.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, but there was nothing either of them could do to stop us.

* * *

"Crazy college girls," Dean muttered as he switched off the engine. Kali and I had finally fallen asleep again by the time we got to Pennsylvania, each other's feet in our laps and our backs against the doors. It wasn't the most comfortable position ever, but it got us through the last hour. I unbuckled my seatbelt, turned, and stretched. Sam and Dean were walking into the motel to make arrangements, so I twisted and writhed to my heart's content.

"Chris, what the hell are you doing?" Kali sat up.

_Wish I had a nickel every time someone asked me that_, I thought. "Stretching."

"Your head is where your feet should be and one foot looks like it's trying to kick Sam in the head."

"Sam's not here, so there." I tried twisting back around, but I couldn't get up. I was stuck. _Oh, shit._

"Hey, look. They're coming back." I couldn't see Kali's face, but I could tell it was smirking.

I tried reaching up for the door handle, but couldn't grab it. I also tried twisting around again, but my weight was all on my arms and I couldn't hold myself up for long enough to actually turn myself around. Finally I reached down with my other foot (the one that wasn't trying to "kick Sam in the head") and unlatched the door with my toe, shouldering it open and falling out onto my knees.

"Ta-da," I shot at Kali, who was watching Sam and Dean approach from behind her. They hadn't seen my antics, for which I was very thankful. I reached back under Sam's seat and pulled out my shoes, which I'd taken off during the trip. After slipping them on, I straightened up and bounced on my toes.

"We're in rooms 203 and 205. Take your pick," Sam said, holding out two keys. Kali grabbed one at random and went over to Dean, who was opening the trunk. She dragged her duffel bag out and turned. "203," she informed me. "Second floor."

"Cool," I said. "I'll follow you." I turned to get my bag.

"And get back down here, 'cause we're eating soon," Dean called over his shoulder, slamming the trunk as she headed up the stairs.

I nodded and took the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up with Kali as she opened the door and stepped inside.

"Ugh," I said, dropping my duffel on the nearest bed and looking around critically at the deep red paneling and the screen between the beds and the door. "Why do they always have to be so dark?"

"I don't know. Come on," Kali said in the doorway. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah," I agreed. "All right." I took one last look, then I was out the door and jogging down the steps to the parking lot.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

The next day Dean and Sam helped us get started again at the local library. Sam let us borrow his laptop again while he and Dean investigated their mysterious phone call. I immediately picked up where I left off the day before with my investigations in Wicca while Chris wandered off to find some information on English pagan rituals. Normally the roles would be switched – I knew more about Celts and other ancient civilizations than Chris from old interests stemming from high school, and Chris had a history of weird roommates (including at least three bisexual wiccans) – but she insisted that I take the computer for practical reasons. She said she couldn't concentrate with the entire internet out there, and I agreed. Chris could be irritatingly ADD if nobody kept tabs on her.

To give credit where credit is due, though, she was trying very hard. She'd found loads of information on pagan worship in the UK, and had taken one look at Dean and Sam's father's journal and started writing everything down. That was fortunate, because all the information we'd gotten in Lake Manitoc would probably have been lost or forgotten in our hurried getaway if she hadn't.

Unfortunately, the World Wide Web had very little on Wiccan time machines. The problem probably was that I didn't really know what I was looking for. I mean, Google "Wicca" and you get a whole lot of weirdness (apparently all true, now). Google "time travel" and you get a whole other lot of weirdness, but more in the science-fiction genre. Google "Wiccan time travel?"

That's right. Nothing.

It was also slightly annoying that neither Sam nor Dean would help us with our search. I knew they were off doing their job, but their first-hand knowledge of the supernatural would be more than helpful at the moment.

After three hours of useless surfing and searching, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes tiredly. Chris looked up from the piece of paper she was currently taking notes – no, not that. As she sat up from the desk, I saw that the paper was covered in doodles of stick figures and random words and phrases.

"Chris, what are you doing?" I asked, exasperated.

"Oh. Um…" She looked down at her paper guiltily. "Nothing?"

I reached forward and slid the paper toward me so I could look at it. Most of the stick figures were trying to figure out ways to kill themselves. Some were jumping off cliffs into shark-infested waters or hang-gliding into mountains inhabited by goats with some very sharp teeth. Others were dancing around stone circles (with human sacrifices in the middle) – which was a slight improvement because it showed that at least she was sometimes thinking about what she was supposed to be studying even if she wasn't actually being productive.

"This is going nowhere." I sighed in exhaustion, flicking the paper away and running a hand through my hair. "There's nothing that's even close to ritualistic world-jumping-time-travel pagan crap. I swear we caught hypothermia on our hike and we're just in a coma right now."

"That would suck," Chris said distractedly, rummaging through her duffel bag. "I don't even like hypothermia."

I slouched in the chair and tilted my head back, closing my eyes. The thought of being stuck in this world forever was daunting and unwanted.

"Dude!"

I jumped in my seat at Chris' loud outburst, and looked in her direction. She was holding something small and shiny in her hand like a holy relic.

"My iPod!"

"You're kidding."

"Ugh, this makes me so happy! This world just got a gazillion times better." She was grinning like an idiot now.

"Where'd you find it?" I leaned over to look at her duffel.

"It was in the pocket of my rain jacket. I was just looking for our route cards and there it was!" Untangling the headphones, she plugged them into her ears and beamed at me.

"Wait. What did you want our route cards for?"

"Oh. Um, I was just checking to see what the coordinates were for the circle and whether there were any local legends about that specific one," she shrugged, bouncing in her chair to her music.

Now why didn't I think of that? I walked to the closet to get my duffel and rain jacket, trying to remember whether I'd put my iPod in one of my pockets or if it was with Ulysses in some godforsaken cave in Colorado. My poor, 180 pound (British money, not weight) bag, rotting in a slaughter house. I wish I had thought to look for it, but pressure is kind of high when there's a cannibal on your butt.

Chris grinned when she saw me patting my pockets. "Check the inside one," she suggested. "The one with the zipper."

That was usually where I put my iPod when it was raining – with as much insulation between it and the rain. I ripped the pocket open excitedly and pulled out my 8-gig second generation iPod.

"You're right," I agreed, putting the headphones in immediately. "This world _did_ just get a gazillion times better."

"Hey, Kali?" Chris said suddenly. "I'm, uh, sorry for being so fidgety. I know you must be under a lot of pressure and my doodling probably doesn't help at all."

"No, that's all right," I shrugged. "Besides, a few verses of Sex on Fire should make it up."

"NO!" Chris' eyes went wide. "Not Kings of Leon! Kali!" But it was too late.

"Yooouuuu," I crooned. "Yo _sex_ is on fiiiire!"

"Ugh!" she shuddered and turned away. "Linkin Park starting…now."

And that's how Dean and Sam found us a while later – both on our beds, jamming out in our own little worlds.

"I thought you were at the library," Sam's mouth twisted in amusement.

Chris looked up from her iPod. "We, uh, took a break."

"What are you listening to?" Dean asked.

"Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is," I told him. "By Jet."

"Love Me Dead by Ludo," Chris admitted.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other. "Never heard of them," Dean shrugged.

"Yes you have," I stated, and he paused.

"No, I haven't."

"You've heard of Jet," I stated again.

"No… I haven't."

"Yes, you have, stop lying."

He suddenly realized I was joking, gave up, and shook his head with a smirk.

"Anyway, we came here for the laptop," he said.

"So, um…" Chris started, watching Sam pack up his Mac. "What are you going to use it for?"

"It's our computer," Dean said, suddenly back in his bad mood. "Not yours."

"I know, but…" Chris looked out the window. "Since you're taking it, that leaves only the books. I've, uh…"

"We're not staying together," Sam told us. "I need it for the goldwave program I have installed, and Dean's going to – uh, do something else."

"What's a goldwave program?" Chris asked.

"It has nothing to do with what you're doing," Dean said, getting annoyed with her.

"Dean," Sam intoned warningly. "EVP. It's electronic voice phenomenon. It lingers in areas after preternatural happenings. I can isolate it with the programs on this computer."

There was a pause after this statement. "Dude," Dean said finally. "That was about one of the geekiest things I've ever heard you say."

"Would learning how to…"isolate"… EVP perhaps be useful in our search for a way back home? Like, let's say we went back to England and found some in the Stone Circle? We'd be kind of SOL if we didn't know what to do with it."

Chris' hands were busy waving in circles around her suggestion. I rolled my eyes. She was just looking for a way out of the room – but she made a good, if somewhat lazy, point. Besides, what else was there? "If… "EVP" shows up wherever there's something weird going on, there would definitely be some around the stone circle in England, or at the very least the clearing where we turned up in Colorado." I said, trying to back her up. "If it has any clues, we'll need them. I'm getting nowhere with this Wiccan crap."

"We could also get them new IDs," Sam added. "I mean, they can't say they're 18 forever."

Dean looked from me to Sam. "All right," he conceded finally, turning to Sam irritably. "You're gonna regret bringing them into this."

* * *

**A/N:** **So. Again, we're back to the "split the freakishly long chapter we had into two parts so that the readers won't get bored" tactic. Personally, I agreed with this one, since the thing is 18 pages long altogether - and that's only so far. We're adding more. At the moment, all we're really trying to do is get Sam and Dean out of Protective-Mode and into the whole "yeah, sure, we'll let you almost get yourselves killed" approach to things. Needless to say, it'll take a little time. So bear with us - it's a little slow at first, but we're skipping episodes like crazy (Lake Manitoc and Bloody Mary, for instance, because we can't find anything fun to make out of them) which means more time will pass in the overly-awesome Supernatural world for Sam and Dean to get used to the idea of letting Chris and Kali in on the hunts. It'll pick up after that, I think. **

**(I hope.)**

**But yeah, that's what's going on. Any suggestions, questions, critiques, flames... (just kidding about that last one, actually) just review! **

**Norangutan and Silver-Eyed-Kat**


	8. Pennsylvania

**Chapter 8** - **Chris' POV**

Sam turned toward me in his seat. "So, really. Why are you here?"

We were with the Impala. Sam had his laptop and I was standing outside the car and leaning against the backseat window, waiting for Kali and Dean to get out of the CopyJack with the new IDs. We'd taken our pictures in some photo booth just inside, but Sam and I had opted to wait outside the shop. The sun, the air, the breeze – _my iPod_ – it was all heavenly.

"What?"

"Dean isn't going to just let you become a hunter, no matter how much you know. This goldwave program probably has nothing to do with getting back home. This is just some way to prove yourself to us that you're worth teaching." Sam's eyes were wide and understanding. And very, _very_ blue.

I snorted. "No, actually this was just a way to get me out of that _room_." I made a face.

He looked taken aback. "What?"

"That motel room – every motel room. Do you know how small those things are?" Stupid question, since he was staying in the one right next door. "They're like coffins, honestly. I'm _dying_ in there. I mean, we have to stay inside all day while you guys go off and…" I shrugged. "Whatever."

"Look, hunting isn't fun. It's a serious job. It requires sacrifice. I don't understand how you could willingly want to be a part of it." Sam's eyes weren't wide or understanding anymore. They were darker and harder.

"Well, neither can I, since I've never had a chance to try it," I protested.

Sam turned back to the front of the car angrily. "Chris, you don't get it. You know what I had to go through to be where I am now? My girlfriend Jessica was _murdered right in front of me_ before I went back to this life. My mother was killed the same way – that's what set Dad off. Your life can_not_ be so horrible that you don't want to go back to it that badly."

He had a girlfriend? Since when had that happened? Kali never said anything about a girlfriend. "How did she die?"

"You're missing the point, Chris."

"No, really, I've already had this conversation with Kali. Don't worry, my life is pretty much screwed to hell because _I'm in another frigging dimension_. That's pretty high up there on the weird-shit-o-meter, okay? I'm dealing with it." I shrugged. "But not by trying to get in Dean's – or your – good graces. If I want to do this seriously, I'll go somewhere and learn it myself. I don't need you to teach me." A lie at the moment, but once I'd gotten the gist of what hunting was about I'd find someone who could train me.

(If hunting was what I wanted to do, of course, since the alternative _was_ still an option.)

Sam glanced back at me quickly. Definite surprise registered on his face, that much I could tell – but admiration? Was he actually impressed I could think for myself? What had he expected me to do?

Why was I even agonizing over what he thought? _Get a life, Chris._

Well, in any case I guess "impressed" with my independence was better than "insulted" that I didn't want his help. Especially since he invited me back into the car and started teaching me about EVP and goldwave programs. I listened attentively because despite the freakishness of it all, it was actually very interesting.

"Any questions?" he asked when he was done.

I looked at the computer screen. "Not…really," I admitted. "You were, uh… pretty thorough." I hid a smile. He'd been able to name just about every famous instance of EVP from around 1800 and onward – including names of discoverers, places, and what the conflicting interpretations were regarding the findings. It was like a very long history lesson – which I didn't mind, since I'd majored in modern European history and loved it. I was just amused at our common… "geekiness," as Dean would probably call it.

Sam snorted. "I'm surprised you sat through that, actually."

"Well, if you'd gone into, like, the…science of it…" I paused, wondering if there was a "science" to EVP.

He smiled. "Science? Of EVP? Don't you think that's a little ironic?"

I waved him off, grinning. "All the technical details, is what I was trying to say. I wouldn't have listened to them."

"Well, that's kind of the downside to all this – EVP, EMF, cold spots, all that other stuff. We don't know how it works, only that it does. My guess is that since all these beings are from different worlds, their very presence distorts reality so that the man's attempts to measure reality – temperature, magnetic fields, or recordings, for example – go haywire."

I thought about that for a minute. "Would that mean…" I asked slowly, "that I would distort reality? Since I'm from a different world?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Maybe," he said. "I don't have an EMF meter on me at the moment, but you might."

"That'd be cool," I grinned, leaning back. "I want to distort reality." I looked into the CopyJack. "God, what is taking them so long?"

* * *

**Kali's POV**

I stood behind Dean, who stood behind the copier, which stood at the back of the store with boxes piled around it.

"You sure this is gonna work?" I asked dubiously.

"Always has before, Kelly." Dean threw a smirk over the top of the machine.

I threatened to punch his arm. "Now you're just calling me that to annoy me."

He chuckled in response.

"What are you going to say if we get caught?"

"Caught doing what? I'm just fixing a copier. You're the one holding the fake IDs."

I snorted. "Fake IDs are in your back pocket, where I put them. If we get caught I'm not getting a black mark on my fresh new record." I crossed my arms.

"Damn. And I thought that was you being friendly." He sounded vaguely disappointed as he patted his back pocket to see if I was lying. It felt like an accomplishment that I'd caught him off-guard.

I followed him back to the computer, where the layout of an official-looking badge was up with Sam's face on it.

"Now for the finishing touches," he muttered to himself. I noticed his devilish grin as he tapped the keyboard, and leaned over his shoulder to read the small text under the picture.

"Bikini inspector?" I asked, then paused suddenly as I… remembered something. Dean glanced up at me.

"Okay?" he inquired.

"Yeah, just déjà vu. Anyways, you're not serious."

He went to the top of the screen and clicked "print."

"You're a horrible brother. You're gonna get him into so much trouble."

"Nobody ever reads the small print, don't worry."

"I'd never do that to my brother."

He got up to get the printout. "You have a brother?" he asked.

"I'm the oldest of four."

"Wow, big family."

I shrugged. "Yeah."

He took the prints and went through a painstaking process of getting them cut out and laminated to look like convincing badges. It looked like he had done it too many times before, and didn't seem to mind at all at how illegal it was. I was paranoid just being around while he did the work. I wasn't used to lawbreaking, besides the occasional underage drink and downloading, but those were so common they might as well be legal.

"That's yours." He handed me a driver's license, the reason I had followed him in here in the first place – so I could scrutinize the information on it. My real name was on it, Kali A. Doherty, and he put my state of origin as Kansas to make our apparent family affiliation more convincing.

"And there's monkey-girl." I took Chris' ID in my hand, inspecting it and seeing that hers had the same basic information – and Christine, not "monkey-girl," as the name.

"Thanks," I said, and quickly made my way outside to the car. Then I stopped and raised my eyebrows, surprised. Chris and Sam were outside the Impala, talking to each other almost cheerfully. Dean stopped beside me.

"They're getting along well," he noticed drily.

I shrugged. "Chris has been… uptight ever since we got here. She needs someone to loosen up with."

"Hm," Dean nodded.

I looked at him sideways. His face was unreadable. I shrugged it off and headed toward the car. I knew Chris only got tense when she was really worried or had something big on her mind. The rest of the time she was pretty laid-back. It was good to see her relaxing for the first time since the mines.

"Kali!" she called when she saw us. "Dude, what took you so long?"

I grinned. "Just touching up a few things. It's not as if we want to get caught or anything, right?" I handed her the second driver's license.

Chris acknowledged this with a nod. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Dean inserted, walking around to the driver's seat.

I laughed to myself as Chris looked surprised and stammered out another thank you. It was also good to see her keep her smart comments to herself again.

"Homeland Security?" Sam asked suddenly. "Dean, that's pretty illegal, even for us."

Chris and I caught each other's glances and looked away quickly. It seemed that neither of us was completely comfortable with the illegality of any of this – but we didn't see an alternative. I walked around the car and sat behind Dean. Sam opened his laptop and began showing Dean the findings of his goldwave program. My eyes widened when I clearly heard the words "No survivors" on the recording.

"No survivors," Dean frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."

"Sounds like Final Destination," Chris put in. "You know, with everyone getting on a ride or whatever and they get killed off one by one until everyone who was on the ride is dead?"

I stared at her. There she went again, confusing fiction with real life. I rolled my eyes. "Chris, that's a movie. Besides, what would cause something like that to happen?"

"What caused it in the movie?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, I only saw the trailer." Chris shrugged.

"It was Death," Dean said.

"What, like a Reaper?"

"No, like Death itself wanted them dead. And that was Final Destination 3, by the way," he added to Chris. "With the rides? The first one was about a plane crash with seven survivors, except they didn't stay on the plane."

"Well, despite the weird coincidence between how many survivors there were after a plane crash, I don't see how this theory works. Death isn't an actual being." Sam turned back in his seat.

"Death be not proud," I grinned. Everyone turned and looked at me. "What?"

"Yeah, and they think I'm the dork," Chris teased. "You don't even know the rest of the poem, do you?"

"'Yet thou are not so…'" I tried, and gave up. "Nope, I have no idea."

Dean shook his head and started up the car. "Well, whatever it is, we need to get you back to the motel."

"No, Dean, wait," Sam said. "I figured we'd be interviewing the survivors next, and the one who I think saw something checked himself into a psychiatric ward."

Dean took a moment before he pulled into traffic and glared at his brother. "Yeah? So?"

"Visiting hours are a little short. We can't make it in time if we drop them off back at the motel. We have to take them with us."

Dean froze. I personally didn't mind this turn of events – watching an interview appealed to me. Besides, after seeing Chris all relaxed just now made me realize how stressed I was at the moment. Yes, I still wanted desperately to get back home, but I wasn't going to find a way immediately. That was obvious now. So now my alternatives were either to burn myself out by studying non-stop, or find some other way to use my brain.

"Dean, it's just an interview," Sam continued.

"Yeah, I know." He paused again, clenching his jaw. "Just… the less they're involved, the better. Christy back there might actually enjoy it."

I smothered a smirk and glanced at Chris, who I knew didn't appreciate the name-alterations any more than I did. She was about to retort, but I was shocked to see her go back into a calm reserve, even with a hint of a smile on her face. She really was in a good mood.

Finally, Dean sighed and pulled out of the parking space, shaking his head and clenching his teeth. I glanced at Chris. Luckily she had the presence of mind to hide her triumph until he turned his head, but I nudged her anyway. Dean did not need any more provocations than what he had already.

* * *

"So, what'd you think of yesterday?" Chris asked as she flipped through the channels idly.

I glanced over at her. She was still in her pajamas and it was one o'clock in the afternoon. How could anyone be so lazy? "I don't know," I rolled my eyes, "since it was so long ago… Maybe if you'd asked me this morning I'd have remembered."

She made a face at me. "Morning people aren't people. They're inhuman. You can't expect the rest of the normal world to wake up before eleven, anyway."

"'Eleven' was three hours ago."

"So I'm even more normal than the rest of the normal world."

I threw a towel at her. "You should take a shower," I said. "Get up."

She groaned and shifted out of bed. "Nobody's gonna care," she complained, but trudged over to the bathroom anyway. I grabbed the remote and started surfing. I had just gotten into "The Road to El Dorado" (it was showing on some kiddie channel) when there was a knock on the door.

I scooted off the bed and answered it. "Yes?" My eyes widened. Sam and Dean stood side by side in an "at ease" stance, except with their hands in front of them. Both were in suits and ties. "Wow. Spiffy."

Dean nudged Sam ahead of him. "Shut up. We need the laptop."

"Any new information?" I closed the door behind them. They looked like they just came back from James Bond auditions, but without the bow ties.

"Yeah," Sam said, wrapping up the cord to his computer. "Demonic possession. Where's Chris?"

"Demonic – _what_?"

"Sam, stop bringing them into this," Dean sighed.

"Why not? They already know enough about the case," Sam rolled his eyes. "Besides, they can't help us anyway. We don't know what or where this thing is."

"But – wait, it's a demon. Doesn't that mean you'd have to perform an exorcism or something?"

"Quit reading into it, Kelly. It's not your job." Dean crossed his arms, looked extremely uncomfortable, and let them hang at his sides again irritably.

"Well, there are lots of different types of demons. There are some from every world culture – and every culture has some truth to it. The earliest recorded forms of demonic possession come from Sumer, where pretty much all diseases were attributed to demons. This one, on the other hand, brought down an entire plane. If we find out what we're dealing with –"

"Sam, would you please shut up?" Dean put his head in his hand.

"Why, Dean?" Sam asked shortly. "What's it going to do? It's not going to hurt them."

"Look, first, they're not part of this. At all. And second, I seriously doubt they're even interested."

"Stop speaking for us." I crossed my arms. "Honestly, Dean, do you think we'll go looking for something that wants to kill us out of curiosity?"

"You – no. Chris – yes."

"Chris is my responsibility, and_ I_ will look after her," I argued.

"Exactly," Sam shrugged. "So what if they're curious? Knowledge is not a bad thing, Dean. You know that anyone who stays with us is in danger."

"Exactly, Sam. That's why I wanna keep them as far away from what we do as possible."

"By keeping them in a motel room? Sooner or later something's going to find out about them and they're going to be targeted. They should at least have the knowledge of how to defend themselves if we're not around."

Dean clenched his jaw in silence, as it seemed he had run out of arguments.

"Well-" He stopped, thought a moment, then slapped his hands against his sides in defeat. "We'll talk about it later. We got a job to do." He turned around and stalked towards the door, leaving Sam and me behind.

"Sorry about that," Sam offered, but I just shrugged it off.

"It doesn't matter to me. It's Chris he'll have to wrestle with if he wants to keep us in a room all the time."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Look, he may come off as a bit stubborn, but really he's just trying to protect you. I know he'd tear himself to pieces if something happened to either of you guys."

I just shook my head and smiled nonchalantly. "I get that, I really do – but like I said, it's Chris he'll have to argue with."

"Sam, come on!" Dean's voice sounded muffled from the room next door.

Sam glanced around our room curiously, as if looking for Chris.

"She's in the shower," I told him.

"Oh. Right." He went back to packing up his laptop, then stopped. "Right now?"

"I let her sleep in," I explained.

"Oh." He shouldered his bag and went for the door, then turned around. "We'll be back in a couple of hours."

"We'll be here."

Suddenly a horrible noise came wafting from the bathroom. It was Chris. It sounded as if she was trying to sing.

"You should probably go now," I urged Sam, and he nodded with a grin and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"All we need is some ice cream and a hug!" echoed from the shower. Bowling For Soup's "Shut Up and Smile."

I couldn't help it. I giggled silently on the bed until the off-pitch squawks became merely annoying. Then I turned the TV up to cover them. "The Road to El Dorado" was just ending when Chris finally stepped out of the bathroom.

"Hey," I said, switching the set off. "You missed Sam and Dean. They're hunting a demon. In suits," I added, grinning.

"Suits?"

"Yeah. They looked like the Men in Black."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Our first, last, and only line of defense. They take the laptop?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "But I'm hungry. Let's get lunch."

"Good idea. Lemme comb my hair first, though."

* * *

**Chris' POV**

I sighed into my plate of quesadillas and sat back.

"You all right?" Kali asked me.

I thought a moment before answering. "Yeah, I guess. Just… About yesterday. You think we made any progress?"

She looked at me. "What do you mean?"

My mouth twisted up in wry amusement. "By 'we,' I mean 'me.' And by 'progress' I mean, 'Do you think Sam and Dean are any closer to letting us out of these stupid motel rooms than they were a week ago?'"

She smiled. "Sam, definitely. Dean…definitely not."

I sighed again and took a drink of my soda. "I don't know what to do with him. He makes no sense! You'd think with someone like him he'd have a 'best defense is a good offense' approach to things, but he doesn't!"

"He just wants to protect us," Kali said simply.

"I know, but…" I sighed for the third time in two minutes and shook my head. "I just… need some way to get through to him. You know? Just…make him understand that he can't keep us protected like this. Like dogs. No, not even. Like poodles kept only for show." I paused. "Except he's not showing us off. Which is probably a good thing. Because that's called pimping and it's not really allowed in most countries."

"Chris!"

I laughed. "But what'd you think of that interview yesterday? Seeing them work together? It was like good-cop-bad-cop."

"Yeah," Kali grinned, "cause they're totally men of the law."

"So it was good-felon-bad-felon. Big deal. The point is, they were there for five minutes and we knew what happened, when it happened, and who did it. Or, where he was sitting. It was easy to find 'Mr. George Phelps, seat 20C' after that. We didn't even need the three hours Sam thought we would."

"What?" she looked up from her burger.

I grinned. "Didn't you check the visiting hours? Sam said they were a little short, that we wouldn't have enough time to drive all of forty minutes to the motel and back to drop us off. He said that around two o'clock. Scheduled visits ended at five."

Kali stared at me. "You mean he…"

"Yup. He lied to Dean. Sam's frigging awesome now." I took a bite from my quesadilla happily. "So, yeah. I think Sam's all right with letting me out of the room. It's just his brother I have to worry about."

She shook her head. "Yeah, we…talked about that in the room," she said into her plate. "While you were in the shower."

"Yeah?" I asked. "What'd they say?"

"Over Dean's dead body, pretty much," Kali smiled sympathetically. "I told Sam it was mostly you Dean had to argue with."

"You didn't tell that to Dean? Thanks."

"No problem. Besides, it's your issue anyway. You take it up with him. Only…" She looked me in the eyes when she said this, "Don't blow everything up, all right? Keep it calm."

"I know," I huffed. "That car thing was…me freaking out because I had no idea what to say and I was tired. But I don't think he'll listen to anything I tell him anyway. Something'll have to happen to change his mind."

Kali looked startled. "Chris! You are not going to make some heroic, daredevil stunt just to prove yourself to them!"

"Why does everyone think I'm going to do that? I'm not an idiot. Do I look like a heroic daredevil to you?" I puffed out my cheeks and slid down in my chair, the quintessential image of a couch potato.

"Hey, I backed you up. I told Dean you were my responsibility to keep under wraps, so don't make me bite my tongue on that." She couldn't help smiling, though.

I grinned but sat up, suddenly serious again. "All I'm saying is that if I'm not allowed to do something stupid and showy to get his attention, then something stupid and just as dramatic is going to happen to us to change his mind."

"What do you mean?"

"Something's going to happen to us, Kali. Something bad. And I don't want it to happen any more than you do, even if it is going to change Dean's mind. But I also don't want to just hang around and wait for it. I want to be ready. Dean's 'protection' isn't going to be worth shit when it happens."

"Chris, they gave us knives and rock salt and told us what to do with them."

I grinned. "Yeah, not so sure how those'll work either, but the guys seemed to think they would, so let's keep 'em. No, what I'm talking about is more… I don't know. Just…" I thought about what I was going to say next. I knew Kali wouldn't like it at all, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt uneasy. "You know how you called this place 'little world of horrors?' That's exactly what it is. You told me, before… well, before we got here that every episode was like a mini horror movie. And that sometimes they tried to shake things up, because whoever watches the show will know horror movies and will try to predict what happens next. Well, now that we're in the show, they're going to try and keep us safe for a while – you know, tell the audience, 'Hey, look, two girls who are totally safe from this world because they don't belong in it' or something, and then BAM! They're going to hit us hard."

Kali stared at me. Her face clouded over. Finally she hissed, "Yeah, except this _isn't_ a TV show right now. _It's real_." I was glad she didn't raise her voice. The diner we were in wasn't empty. "I was kidnapped by a Wendigo and nearly eaten – that means that something can _definitely_ happen to us while we're here. And you know what? It already has. So just calm the fuck down and quit worrying!"

"I'm not worrying, I'm being practical. We're part of this now. The longer we're here, the more likely it is that we're going to be drawn into Sam and Dean's job. And the only way that that's going to happen is if something convinces Dean that we're not safe without him. And only something huge is going to convince him of that, so…" I looked her in the eyes. "'Get ready' is all I'm saying. And that has nothing to do with being in a television show. That's just facts."

Kali opened her mouth to say something, but sighed and shook her head. "All right. Sam pretty much said the same thing before, so I guess you have a point. But if you're right…" She looked up and raised an eyebrow mockingly, "If you're right about this whole horror-movie-fictional-world crap, you're going to be next. Because you haven't had anything bad happen to you besides a dislocated shoulder."

"Which might why I'm so fucking terrified."

She let out a surprised laugh. I smiled. It was all in the delivery. We went back after that, back to the motel room and back to studying. There was so much on pagan rituals in England, and I had next to no clue what I was looking for. I finally gave up and started trying to draw what I'd seen on the ground at the site. I figured that maybe I could show it to Sam and he might give us a lead. I suck at drawing, though, and eventually the whole endeavor devolved into me attempting to make perfect five-point stars in circles the way I was taught when I was six.

Dinner that night was equally nondescript. Kali and Dean exchanged "witty repartee" while Sam and I ate our food in relative silence, rolling our eyes whenever we figured their flirting had crossed some invisible line between amusing and perverted. I could tell neither of us minded their talk, though. I was glad Kali could get along with Dean so well because if it was up to me, I would have probably ruined the entire meal and embarrassed everybody. As it was, Kali kept things light and easy. There were no screaming matches that night.

I did wish for the thousandth time after the meal that I could take a walk, but as we were in the middle of Philadelphia and the neighborhood wasn't exactly the most scenic, I had to go back to the room and watch some more television. Kali dropped off around ten (as always – darned morning person that she is), but I stayed up past one with the screen on mute. I finally gave up trying not to think about my predictions at lunch, turned the set off, and pulled the covers up way over my head. I stayed up an extra hour that night, even though I kept my eyes squeezed shut the whole time.

* * *

**A/N: n/a**

**Norangutan and Silver-Eyed-Kat**


	9. Phantom Traveler

**Chapter 9 – Kali's POV**

It was well into the afternoon of the next day. Sam and Dean had gone to see Jerry not long after hearing that Chuck Lambert had just died in another plane crash. Chris and I were, as usual, in the motel room, only this time we weren't doing research. After literally weeks of coming up with nothing, I had officially given up. There was nothing to find, and I was really stressed and a little – well, maybe more than a little – upset about it. I really wanted to get home, and there just wasn't a single lead anywhere that would help us get there. So, we decided to relax that day, maybe watch a little TV.

I was online looking at laptops, considering buying one of my own – with one of Sam or Dean's credit card scams, of course. I had whipped up a fair argument as to why they should buy one for only us to use. Maybe we could get our own cell phones as well, as those were practical if the brothers wanted to keep an eye on us from a distance.

"You know what's amazing?" Chris asked from the bed while slowly flipping channels, her voice muffled because of her chin resting on her chest.

"What?" I replied, keeping my eyes on the screen.

"Right now, I'm watching shows that I totally missed four years ago."

"Hm."

A knock on the door signaled Sam and Dean were back, and Chris got up to answer it.

"We gotta go," Sam said urgently, pushing open the door and looking from me to Chris.

"Why?"

"We found out who the demon's after. We're going to Indiana. Get your stuff."

With that he went back to his room, leaving Chris and me to stare at each other in a less urgent manner than what should have been engendered by that speech. We gradually got to packing our things. There wasn't too much to pack, though, and we were ready in a few minutes. Soon enough we were in the Impala on yet another road trip, only this time I had white knuckles from gripping the handle on the door and the leather of the seat because Dean was driving insanely fast. Apparently we had to save this airline flight attendant Amanda Walker before she got on a plane and crashed to her death. I tried not to think about the irony if we all died in a crash right now.

We made it to the airport in one piece, thank God, and without much consideration as to whether or not Sam or Dean wanted us to come along, Chris and I followed them into the building at running speed. I think it was because I wanted to get out of that car before something bad happened because it wasn't a happy place to be in at the moment. Chris was probably just curious.

"There, they start boarding in thirty minutes," Sam pointed out on the screens overhead.

"All right, we still got a few cards to play," Dean said, rushing to a phone. After a conversation with Amanda that completely failed (due to Dean's "awesome" lying people skills), our options had dwindled down to one: getting on the airplane to stop the demon. Now the only problem was who was going to draw the lucky tickets to ride the craft.

My opinion was the plan itself didn't seem like an attractive option. I wasn't going to get on the plane because I'd rather not come face to face with a real live demon and/or crash down in flames. Either one was bad enough in any case, but this one seemed to include both. My opinion didn't matter, though, because Sam and Dean wouldn't let me on the plane in the first place. However, the situation got interesting when Dean clearly lost his cool at the inevitable option of getting on the flight and performing a full-on exorcism (which they'd never done, by the way). But apparently facing the demon wasn't his problem – it was the flying part. I had to keep my laugh on the inside, because up until now he had this façade of bravery (that was quite well-tested in my opinion) which was finally failing, but that made the situation all the more amusing. Oh, irony.

"Look Dean, we can do it together, I can do it by myself… I'm missing a third option here," Sam stated urgently.

"Well, you could –" Chris began, but was quickly cut off by Dean's finger pointed at her in warning.

"No," he emphasized clearly, but quickly fell back into his nervous state of shifting his feet with a helpless look on his face.

Seriously, they were wasting precious time trying to get over this. "Stop being a pussy and get on the fucking plane, Dean," I intruded, and he looked at me like I'd just thrown a pencil at his head.

"Aw, come on." He slapped his hands on his sides in frustration. "Man!"

"Dean –" Sam started.

"All right, all right, I'll go get the stuff," he gave in, then looked at me pointedly. "You come with me."

Chris and I exchanged glances, but I followed him out of the building towards the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out salt, and a bottle of water.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"Holy water. Like acid to demons," he replied.

"You know you can't take –" I stopped myself, remembering that this was the past and whatever bombings that had put the restrictions on liquids hadn't quite happened yet. "Never mind."

He then got into the front seat and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a small notebook.

"All right." He turned to me and looked at me like he was about to say something very important, like the secret to living a good life or something. Then he held out his keys. "I am trusting you with these. I am trusting you with my car. Now, if Sam and I die–" He paused and closed his eyes, still quite daunted by the prospect of what they were about to do. "This is a list of contacts." He opened the notebook and circled two names. "This is our dad. You call him, you tell him what happened. If he still can't be reached, you call this guy – Bobby. He's a family friend and he'll know what to do."

I stared at the notebook a little warily. The idea that the worst could happen to them was frightening to say the least, and believe it or not I was attached to the brothers on some level. I kind of really didn't want them to die. Dean was funny, and Sam was cool. I'd rather them stick around, but this responsibility Dean was placing on me was an eye-opener to reality. Oh, more irony.

I took the keys from his hand, and he stuck the notebook back in the glove compartment.

"Okay. You got that?" he asked, and reluctantly I nodded.

We started to rush back to the building, but didn't get far before he stopped suddenly and reached into his pocket.

"You should also probably take this." He handed me his cellphone. "When we land, we'll call you guys, so keep it close."

I took it, and we started off again, but again he stopped to reach into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Oh, and here's some cash, for food and stuff. Should be enough for a room if we're not back for a while." I took that as well.

"That everything?" I asked with a hint of a smile, and his brow furrowed – amusingly, I thought – and he took a big breath.

"And I'm sorry I called you and Chris preppy college girls." He really was pumping out the "if I die" crap.

I just smiled and turned toward the building. "Whatever. Come on, wussy."

Once the brothers had rushed toward the terminal, Chris and I stood around a bit, sort of wondering what to do. Waiting around to know if they got out of the plane alive was less nerve-racking than the feeling of total uselessness. After a few minutes we went to a shop to sit down, quite literally counting down the forty minutes until we saw some sign of chaos in the airport staff or saw a headline of "Plane Crash in Middle of Cornfield" on the news above our heads.

The time went by incredibly slow. I kept Dean's phone in my hand tentatively, waiting for it to do something, staring at it in anticipation. The closer it got to forty minutes the more anxious I got. Chris, on the other hand, swiftly decided to go to a nearby bookstore for distraction purposes and to pass the time. I was too focused on reviewing the horrible responsibilities Dean had bestowed upon me. I really hoped they got out alive, because I really didn't want to deliver the news of their death to a father who sounded incredibly intimidating and fully focused on a serious mission, and to a family friend that I'd neither met nor even heard of before.

Chris returned promptly once the forty minutes had gone by. "Anything?" she asked.

"Not yet." I shook my head with a sigh.

Another twenty minutes passed and we started to really get anxious.

"Maybe we should go outside. Better signal," Chris suggested, and I agreed. The fresh air would do some good, so we went outside, toward the car and just leaned against it… waiting. I began to toss the phone up in the air, not really paying attention to the possibility that it isn't mine and I could drop it. Chris on the other hand, was very aware of these details, and quickly took it from my grasp for my own good.

An hour and ten minutes had gone by when "Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple suddenly reverberated from her hand, and she eagerly flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

I could faintly hear a voice on the other end, and Chris sagged against the car and looked at me in relief, giving me a thumbs-up.

"We're at the other airport, genius. Where are you?" She rolled her eyes. She got over her anxiousness pretty quickly. Suddenly she grinned. "You're kidding. Really? Dude. No way!" She stood up straighter against the car and looked at me excitedly. "Um, _yeah_! No problem. No, no problem at _all_."

"So?" I asked as she clipped the phone shut.

"They're fine. They're in Maryland, BWI. They said we should, uh, drive back to the hotel, 'cause Dean refuses to fly back, so they'd have to take a train or a taxi or something that stays on the ground."

I looked at her skeptically.

"They said to drive there? In the Impala?"

"Yup." She grinned even wider.

"Dean was okay with that?"

"Well, it was Sam who suggested it, so probably not. But I wasn't going to fight with him over it."

And with that she climbed into the driver's seat of the car, running her hands along the steering wheel.

"And I'm driving," she added, and I rolled my eyes, getting in beside her.

"He trusted _me_ with the keys, Chris," I warned her.

"Aw, come on. You won't even appreciate driving it – her. Besides, I wouldn't dream of harming this beauty."

With a loud sigh I pulled the keys from my pocket, eyeing them carefully. It wasn't that I didn't trust in Chris' driving skills. It was her obvious excitement in being able to drive it, and the fact that it was a big muscle car – with a clutch. I wasn't sure if she even knew how to use a clutch, but I assumed she did. The car was also old. If it was sensitive to any sort of handling, we'd be screwed, because neither of us knew anything about fixing cars.

"Just… please be careful," I said weakly, handing her the keys. I really didn't want Dean to regret trusting me with his car. I knew I was.

She excitedly took them out of my hand and put them in the ignition. The Impala roared to life. Chris, after a few moments' stroking time with the wheel, put it in reverse, and backed out easily enough. I was watching the mirrors nervously to make sure she didn't hit the cars around us. Then she put it in gear, and the car lurched and stopped, surprising me. Chris moved the gear up one, and drove again, only this time the engine stalled.

"Chris, you need to push the clutch," I told her.

"Where's that? Is that the third pedal thing?"

I stared at her in disbelief, but decided this was the time to teach and not criticize. She really wanted to drive the car, after all.

"Yes. You have to push it down whenever you change gears or the engine will stall."

She tried it again, and it worked – but when it came time to shift the gear up again, she missed the clutch and the car jerked.

"Chris-"

"I know, I know! Just – takes a little getting used to…" she said in defense, and tried again. She focused on coordinating her foot with changing the gears, glancing at the road in front of her every now and then. I watched her, but she was paying too close attention to the gears. I stared wide-eyed at the road ahead.

"Chris!" I screamed suddenly, and she hit the breaks just as a car passed by just inches in front of us. My heart began hammering again. That was too close.

"Maybe…Maybe you should drive… for now," Chris said a little nervously, and I agreed with a nod. We switched places right then, and she sat shotgun the rest of the way and navigated.

* * *

**Chris' POV**

After my Impala Fiasco I meekly navigated, and once at the hotel we fell asleep easily. It was a few hours later when we got another call, the sun was just rising, and the two brothers were ready to be picked up at a train station. I called Sam as we approached the drop-off zone and we picked them up without a hitch. And then I was, once again, in the back seat.

We drove back to the hangar where Jerry Panowski worked at that morning. Sam and Dean figured that it would be weird to just skip out on Jerry without letting him know what the hell happened and whether it'd happen again. Call it professional pride, if you will.

The meeting was… interesting. Kali and I were introduced to Panowski for the first time as Sam and Dean's cousins. Then we found out that their father (our "uncle," apparently…) had put a mysterious message as his cell phone's answering machine telling whoever was calling to contact Dean instead. I had no idea Sam and Dean didn't know that their father was alive – I'd always just assumed he was because it would be a pretty sucky story arc if he wasn't.

I was suddenly embarrassed to realize that throughout my self-centered schemes to convince Dean to let us in on the big world of Supernatural Secrets, I had totally ignored the fact that he was dealing with huge personal problems of his own. I felt like a total asshole (or bitch, since that's usually the gender-specific term for self-absorbed screw-up). Accordingly, I piped down on the annoying questions and sarcastic comments that I knew would only irritate him.

The next few days were murder. I was determined to be nice to Dean, but since I generally live by the rule of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," I effectively became a complete mute around him. The man really did bring out the worst in me. If it weren't for the few flashes of kindness he showed toward his brother every once and a while – like trying to get Sam to talk about his nightmares when he thought Kali and I weren't listening – I would have broken my silence and said many things I would have regretted later.

We were a few days into their next case in Toledo, Ohio when I finally realized that what bugged me most about Dean was his incapacity to take orders from anyone. It was a control issue: I wanted what little control over my life I had left while Dean was dead set against me making an informed decision and was more than willing to decide for me anyway. Of course, once I figured this out I had to take a look at Kali, too, and make sure she wasn't doing the same thing – except she was. While Dean just didn't want me to go into hunting, Kali wanted me back home. And although I understood why she wanted me there with her, I resented the fact that she wanted it for her, not for me. She didn't want to be alone in her world, just like I knew I would be no matter where or with whom I went.

In the end it didn't even matter. I was sitting on my bed when I had my giant revelation about everybody (except Sam – I was trying not to think about him, actually), not doing any work at all. Kali wasn't doing any work, either. She was watching some god-awful soap opera with me – there wasn't a book in sight.

"Kali?" I asked tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't we working?"

She sighed. "Because there's nothing to work _on_. We've gotten nowhere, and we've been researching for weeks. I've officially given up."

I gaped at her. "But – what about home? I mean, I know I wasn't the most supportive of this plan, but… Kali, what are you going to do?"

"I… don't know. But I'm tired of dead ends. I guess I'll just work on it as hobby, you know… Like, on and off."

I tried to think of something useful, something comforting or constructive to say, but I couldn't. "It'll be okay" was absurd, since everything wasn't okay at all, nor would it ever be no matter what we did. "Don't worry" would be equally ridiculous, considering… well, everything. Finally I opted for, "I'm sorry."

She snorted. "What do you have to be sorry about? You wanted this in the first place. You got what you wanted."

"I didn't want this. Kali, if there was _any_ way for me to go back without feeling like a freak, I'd've done it in a heartbeat. I'm as trapped here as you."

She nodded. "Yeah. But you still don't have to apologize. I mean, you didn't get us stuck here. And you can't take us back or anything, so… really, there's nothing to be sorry about."

"…Thanks."

"No problem."

The show ended. I flicked the TV off. "So, really. What are we going to do? I mean, we can't stay in motel rooms for the rest of our lives."

She looked at me and rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "We're not gonna chase monsters, dig up graves, and exorcise demons, or slay Edward Cullen."

"Aw, shit. We have to witness the boom of Twilight again," I muttered. I hated those books… "Yeah, I'm just saying if we're going to stay here for an indefinite period of time, we can't sit on our asses and watch TV all day. Let's get up and do something. Find a gym, work out, go for a walk, get ice cream, I don't know – just not this." I waved my arm and let it fall limply back to the coverlet.

Kali perked up. "Yeah," she said, the idea growing on her. "Yeah, let's go somewhere. What's in Toledo?"

"No clue," I grinned. "I know. Let's go see a museum."

"A museum?"

"You know, like a Smithsonian thing. They'll have hands-on stuff that you can play with for the little kiddies and –"

"Chris, calm down. You're not a 'little kiddy.'" Kali smiled and looked over my shoulder as I Googled "museum in toledo, ohio."

"Well," I said as I scrolled down, "There's an art museum…You up for an art museum?" I glanced at her.

"Nah," Kali shook her head. "Something a little less serious."

"Something with more kiddy play-pens?"

"No."

"Fine." I turned back to the computer mock-dejectedly and scrolled down some more. "Ooh," I said, clicking on one option. "Fort Meigs. War of 1812. How about a history trip?"

"That sounds good. Let's go."

We took a taxi there and spent the rest of the day checking out the fort. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, having both been slight history buffs throughout our high school and college careers. We got back around sundown – we didn't want to freak Sam and Dean out by not being there when they came back from whatever they were doing – and had a very relaxing dinner at a Bob Evans down the road. I ordered a truly heavenly brownie with vanilla ice-cream over the top and nearly died trying to finish it. I even laughed at something Dean said, which may have surprised him more than it did me.

Finally I pushed my plate back and sat against the red pleather seats. "I've got to walk this off," I said, nodding to the empty brownie plate. "Anybody wanna come with?"

"Aw, come on. I spent all day walking around with you," Kali complained. "My feet hurt."

"Oh." I played with my napkin awkwardly. I didn't really want either of the brothers with me, Dean because… well, it was Dean, and Sam because… that would be awkward. But they were my only option now. "Well, believe it or not, _Dean_, but I'd rather not go outside alone."

"Sammy'll go with you," Dean offered. Sam glanced at him, irritated.

"Sam," he corrected.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean got up to let his brother out. "Go on, and don't stay out too late or I'll wonder what you're doing out there together."

I cringed in embarrassment as I got up from the table, but managed to keep my mouth shut. Sam rolled his eyes and held the door open for me was I stepped out into the night.

"So where to?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I shrugged. "I don't know. This way."

We walked a few steps in silence. Finally Sam asked, "So how was your day?"

I snorted. We sounded like we were normal – like he hadn't spent his entire day trying to hunt down some demon or ghost or whatever. "Nothing much. Went to Fort Miegs and saw some War of 1812 stuff."

"Really. That's cool. What made you decide to do that?"

"Boredom."

There was a pause.

"Ah."

I shook my head. "Honestly, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't mean to make this weird for you. It just kind of slips out. It's just the small-room-close-quarters thing again. Besides, going to see something really helped. Kali and I feel way better. We're cool."

Sam nodded, then chuckled to himself.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, tomorrow Dean and I are going off to Fort Wayne, Indiana. I don't suppose you'd like to come?"

"Ugh! And sit in that backseat for another five hours? No thanks." I shuddered.

"Actually, this one's only two hours. But I'll see if Dean'll let you stay behind for another day so you can find something else to do. Have anything planned?"

"No, but I bet Kali'll Google something as soon as she gets back to the room. She'll want to do something interesting tomorrow, too."

"That's good."

There was another long pause.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what did you do today?"

He snorted. "Just helped discover that some man may or may not have murdered his wife."

"Oh." _Jesus, what a job._ "What do you think?"

"I don't think it matters. The ghost killed him anyway." He started walking a little more hunched over with his head down. If he started kicking rocks along the sidewalk I'd have a hard time not flinging my arms around him and telling him everything would be okay.

"The ghost of the dead wife?"

"No, the ghost of Bloody Mary."

"You're fighting Bloody Mary?"

"Yeah."

"_What_?" I stopped and stared at him.

"You know the legend – say the name three times –"

"I know the legend, I just – well, actually I don't know the legend, I just know that if you say her name three times in the mirror she'll kill you, but that's about it and all I figured I needed to know that it was a suburban little kids' myth. This is – this isn't – I mean…" I waved my hands in the air as expressively as I could, but the gestures probably only expressed how weird I was being.

Sam watched me as I stuttered for words to convey my disbelief without twitching a muscle in his face. Eventually I switched tactics – and topics.

"Dude, what's eating you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You're just standing there. You're barely listening to a word I'm saying. Something's up – Wait. I'm sorry, if this has something to do with the nightmare thing, I didn't mean to bring it up. Sorry."

He turned and started walking again. I took that as a "yes," and followed him silently, berating myself mentally for being so uncouth. This conversation had just taken a very uncomfortable turn thanks to my lack of social skills.

"It is about the nightmare thing," he said suddenly.

I tried not to stare at him. I thought we were done talking about it.

"Dean says I call out her name when I sleep, so it's no secret I'm dreaming about Jess. My girlfriend," he added.

"I know." I did. I hated when I woke up to his distraught mumblings in the car. It was even worse when I stayed up late watching TV and I heard him through the walls. It made me uncomfortable to think that he was dreaming about his girlfriend, but even more weirded out that he was…involved enough to enunciate words so clearly.

"Every time it's the same. I open my eyes and she's there, on the ceiling. And then she just… burns. Right in front of me. And it never stops. I just lie there…And then," he shook his head. "Then I wake up."

He had nightmares about his girlfriend dying every night? Every time he went to sleep? I couldn't believe it. Was this part of the show? It was dramatic, that was for sure. But it was so… cruel. How could writers subject their characters to this trauma? It was horrible! Nobody could be that mean…could they?

_Yes._ That was the cynical voice, the one that was constantly reminding me that although this was a TV show, these monsters were very real, very scary, and would probably kill me someday. It was the voice I had laughed at when I was in the real world, but now I was becoming very dependent on its cold, hard sense. And right now that voice was telling me that I had to deal with whatever was going on with Sam, because whatever happened to Sam would have repercussions on me.

I thought about everything he told me some more. It felt good to finally confront it after a week of trying to avoid it completely. "How long did you know Jess – ica…?" I added her full name because the nickname suggested a familiarity I really didn't feel.

He didn't answer for a long time. "Two years."

"And how old were you when your mother died?" I felt like such a bitch for asking, but it really mattered. To me. And Kali. Life and death situation, sort of.

"Six months. Look, Dean and I have already gone through all the connections we can. We don't know what killed them. Stop asking."

"This isn't for you, this is for me. Something seems to be killing all the women in – the Winchesters' lives. First your father's significant other, then yours? Dean's not the type to have a solid girlfriend, so I guess he's safe… Where does that leave me and Kali? Just because we're not romantic interests doesn't mean that thing won't come after us, too." I was proud of myself for not saying "your life" and instead covering it up with "the Winchesters' lives." That was a close call, but I thought I got through it all right. All that crap about Dean not having a girlfriend was good – but I didn't believe it. Something was going after Sam.

I suddenly recognized that the show was surprisingly Sam-centric. I mean, based on the amount of relationship problems he was having at the moment, the show would definitely focus on him much more than on Dean – which surprised me, since I'd sort of assumed Supernatural was more about Dean because of all the YouTube videos Kali had ever sent me.

Meanwhile, Sam got that look on his face again: surprised, impressed, admiring…and then it changed – into something hard and determined. Set. "Don't worry," he said finally. "I won't let it happen again. Ever."

_He blames himself_, I realized. _He thinks that because he's supposed to be killing ghosts and stuff he should have protected her._ He had a point, but I certainly wasn't going to say I thought so.

Suddenly something changed. It wasn't quite a conscious decision, but I think I finally realized that it didn't matter that I was in a fictional world. It didn't matter that my life was so screwy that I couldn't possibly begin to sort it out without major help from a therapist (who would only try to convince me that I was wrong anyway). What mattered now were other people and their problems. What mattered now was what I could do for them. What mattered now (and I meant this in the least romantic way possible) was what I could do for Sam.

That decision for commitment meant that I was staying and becoming a hunter for good. Learning what salt was for, what iron could do, all that stuff – that wasn't just for my protection anymore. I would use that information to save people's lives, and whether they thanked me or not would not be an issue. I'd do it because it needed to be done.

The other thing that clicked was the idea that just because this world was supposedly fictional didn't make it any less real. I hadn't quite come to terms with that when I'd figured out that I could use the fictional elements – irony, drama, clichés, etc. – to predict what could happen, but I did so now. It felt good, sort of liberating. I wasn't going back home, and I wasn't going to sit back and let someone else dictate my life to me. I was taking control again, and I was glad.

"We should go back," I said, turning around. "I need to talk to Kali."

* * *

"Kali, I'm staying."

She looked up from the laptop. "Really. I didn't know there was an alternative."

"Maybe not at the moment, but I'll bet along the way we'll find some more information that'll look like it'll lead us back home. But I'm telling you right now, if we ever find a way, I won't take it. I'm staying here."

She puffed her cheeks and let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair and looking at me. She didn't look like she was ready to argue, but that was only exhaustion. It was more as if she was merely… unimpressed with my decision. "And you'll just become a hunter, is that it? How do you think you'll get Dean to let you do that?"

I shrugged. "What Dean has to say doesn't have anything to do with what I decide. And yes, I will hunt down ghosts and evil spirits and save people's lives. I think that's a pretty decent calling in life, don't you? Oh, and I should thank you for helping me to this conclusion. I don't think I could have made it here without you slowing down on the Home Front. You were the only one keeping me back. So thanks."

"Keeping you back?" She looked a little offended by that. "I wasn't trying to oppress you or anything, Chris, I was trying to keep your feet on the ground and keep you safe."

"Keep me safe? You're starting to sound like Dean."

"Dean's not your best friend!"

"And I'm not a child! Don't treat me like I need to have a kiddy leash on. Believe it or not, I _can_ take care of myself."

"I'm not trying to baby you either, Chris." She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Is it that hard for you to understand that you're like family to me? That I simply _care_ about you?"

I shut up for a bit, my mouth still trying to form words. She made a good point – one that I hadn't realized before. "Of course not," I answered finally.

We looked at each other in silence, observing our expressions and generally letting the conversation cool down. This was the cue for a middle ground topic.

"Look," she began, and I listened intently. "If it honestly means that much to you – okay, whatever. I can't stop you. Granted we're not going to find a way home soon, and we're stuck with Sam and Dean for God knows how long."

Another pause.

"But?" I asked tentatively. I knew there was one coming.

"Just… don't dive into it. Keep your head on." She almost smirked, signifying the conversation had lightened considerably.

I didn't say anything past that, didn't jump for joy or start bouncing off walls (because that would kind of ruin the mood, and betray the trust she was showing in even letting me start this). But I was happy, very happy, that she gave her official approval, because I did sort of need it. My conscience would have been bugging me every second I went off to do something I knew she wouldn't like.

I grinned. It felt like a really good time for a topic change, to play on her "almost smirk" and bring out a full on smile to complete the package. "So…" I started, pulling an "up to no good" smirk of my own. "Speaking of hunting and such – you and Dean are getting along pretty well."

"Mm-hm, and how was your 'walk' with Sam?" she quickly countered, which completely took me by surprise. Obviously I couldn't tell her the truth, since what Sam and I talked about had a "confidential" mark on it. It was between him and me – and Dean probably. But she was right – with that decision to help Sam get through this, I had effectively acknowledged that I had something going for him. I blushed, shut my mouth, and smiled.

"Let's just say we enjoy their company and leave it at that, shall we?" she proposed, and I was more than happy to agree with that. We both laughed (I nervously, she much more relaxed) and went to bed in peace for about the first time since we'd gotten here.

Which felt good.

Very good.

* * *

**A/N: [As Norangutan]Well, all I can say is, "WOOHOO!" I've effectively ended Chris's emo streak, and we can finally get on to the fun stuff! Although you can always tell me how I could have made that decision better, since whenever I read it I think, "Wow, that's clunky." It made more sense when I was writing it, though. Any questions, just ask! S-E-K, got anything to add?  
[As Silver-Eyed-Kat] No, not really.  
[As Norangutan again] Useful. ANYWAYS, thanks for reading, and leave a review at the bottom, please! Over and out.**


	10. Bloody Mary

**Chapter 10 – Chris' POV**

Kali and I had just gotten back to our room after eating dinner the following night when there was a knock at our door. I went to answer it.

"Here, get her inside," Sam said, and nudged a girl with a green knit sweater pulled up over her eyes into the room. She was tall and slim with blonde highlights – and was whimpering slightly.

I stood back into the bathroom doorway and allowed all three of them (Dean was right behind Sam) into the room. Kali stood up immediately. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Sam and Dean both ignored her and began pulling down pictures and glancing around fervently for… Well, even I couldn't figure out what. Kali stood in the middle of the room for a moment before finally walking over and shifting from foot to foot next to me, frowning as Dean and Sam proceeded to tear sheets off our beds and cover up the laptop.

"What are they doing?" she whispered.

"At the moment, they are putting the wonderfully cheap printings shiny-side-down on my bed," I commented bemusedly.

"Chris."

"What?"

"If you don't know, don't answer."

I shrugged and grinned. "Hey, if I knew, I'd tell you."

Kali huffed impatiently. "I just wish they wouldn't barge in here and then totally ignore us. I mean, I know they're paying for it, but it _is_ our room. You know – sort of…"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but –" I started, but Sam began talking to Green Sweater Girl.

"Hey," he said. "Hey, it's okay. You can open up your eyes, Charley. It's all right. Now listen, you're going to stay right here, on this bed, and you're not going to look at glass or anything else that has a reflection…"

"Oh!" My eyes widened. "She's being hunted by Bloody Mary."

"What?" Kali looked at me sharply. "How do you know that?"

"Sam told me yesterday what they were hunting. On the walk," I added, smiling.

Dean apparently heard this because he turned around quickly and shot me a dark look. _Oops,_ I thought, but moved closer to the beds despite his annoyance. My curiosity could easily – and usually did –overcome my fear of Dean when he was angry. Kali edged forward with me.

"All right, Charley," Dean said, sitting on the bed next to Green Sweater Girl. "We need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it." Green Sweater – er, Charley – rocked back and forth in an upright fetal position.

"Said what?" Kali hissed in my ear.

"'Bloody Mary,' genius," I hissed back. "Now shuddup, I wanna hear this."

"That's not what we're talking about." That was Dean. He actually sounded concerned. Amazing.

Kali, thankfully, sat quiet as Charley told a truly nauseating tale about her creepy – actually, make that suicidal – ex boyfriend. Tears were coursing down her face by the time she trailed off, "I should've…"

"Would you look at that," I murmured to Kali in an undertone only she could hear. "Two people in the same room who blame themselves for the death of their other half. And the moral of _this_ story is…"

Kali looked at me, nonplussed. "What?"

I glanced at the trio on the bed and figured they weren't paying much attention. "Look at them!" I hissed. "Sam's distraught that he couldn't save his girlfriend and blames himself for her death – Charley's going through the same thing. Situational irony much?"

"Only you would notice that, Chris." She looked at me, huffed her disapproval (which I supposed I deserved since I was making snide comments about other people's personal emotions), and turned back to the scene unfolding in the room – which suddenly featured Sam and Dean getting up off the bed and walking toward the door.

"What, you can't just leave her here with us!" I mouthed, suddenly realizing that this was what they planned to do.

Sam blinked, then gestured for us to go outside.

"Chris, she needs help. The only way she's safe is if she stays in there," he said quietly once we'd closed the door behind us.

"Whatever happened to keeping us out of this?" I turned to Dean. "Besides that, were you ever going to mention this before you dum –uh, left her with us?"

"'No' to the second, and 'this wasn't my idea' to the first," Dean muttered. "And since when were you _not_ dying to be a part of this?"

"I'm not 'dying to' anything, especially not babysit," I rolled my eyes. "We don't even know her. How are we going to introduce ourselves? 'Oh, hi, there. You're being chased by Bloody Mary? We're not. Sucks to be you!'"

"Chris!" Kali put her head in her hand. "Don't worry, Sam. We can handle it. Chris… Just don't say anything." She was obviously annoyed – although I could tell her irritation was directed less at me and more at them. At least, I thought so…

I sighed and backed down. "I know, I know. So… what? We just sit tight and comfort her? For how long?"

"Just a few hours," Sam said.

"Great, now Dean gets to grade me on my performance and if it's not up to par I'm not going anywhere as a hunter," I muttered to Kali.

"You're not going anywhere as a hunter whatever you do," Dean said. Apparently he heard me despite the undertone. That was twice in one evening – the guy had supersonic hearing or something. "But Sam's right. We have less to worry about if Charley's with someone who won't get her killed."

I was pleasantly surprised. Apparently Kali and I had graduated from the Preppy College for Girls and were off to a good start on our Master's degrees in Not Getting People Killed. It seemed we were moving up in Dean's Wonderful World of Useless Opinions. "Hey, speaking of, what happens if you-know-who does show up? I don't suppose we'll be targeted, right?"

"You mean Bloody Mary?" Kali corrected, like she thought she was being smart.

"No, I mean Amelia Earhart. Of course I mean Bloody – you know what? Just don't say it."

"There's no mirrors around, you can say Bloody Ma-"

I clamped my hand over her mouth. "There is a window right behind you," I pointed out quietly. "If you say it and get me killed, I swear I will haunt your ass and there won't be nothing Sam and Dean can do to stop me." I was only half joking. Kali gave me a look and pushed my hand away with some annoyance.

"You won't have to worry about anything. You-know-who only goes after people who have killed someone else –" Sam started.

"Which, thanks to us, you've never done," Dean interrupted, looking at me.

"Yes, thank you, Dean," Kali said pointedly, allowing Sam to continue.

"Or at least blame themselves for doing so," he finished, rolling his eyes at his brother. "So, if you have any deep, dark secrets, now's the time to 'fess up."

"I'm okay," Kali said, looking at me sardonically. "I'm pretty sure neither of us has ever killed anyone."

I smirked at the absurdity of her words. "But seriously, what do we use? The salt? The knives? Both at once?" It occurred to me that in the event of Bloody Mary trying to kill me, I would probably use anything I could get my hands on, useful or otherwise – salt, knives, heavy table lamps…bottles of Coke from the minibar…

"Turn a mirror on her," Kali blurted out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sam and Dean both stared at her, and she shrunk a little. "What?"

"She's already _in_ the mirror," Dean said.

"So turn a mirror on the mirror and see what happens," I suggested. I frowned at Kali thoughtfully. "You know, I sure hope you remembered that from somewhere because if you didn't I'm going to feel really stupid that I didn't think of it before you."

"I don't… think so." Her mouth twisted in a combination of amusement and consternation.

Sam shook it off and grabbed our attention again. "So look, you can't kill with salt or iron. You can just keep her at bay. We're actually going to look for her right now and end her through the original mirror," he looked down toward the car impatiently. We were keeping them from their job.

"You should go," Kali said, nodding in the direction Sam was glancing at.

I couldn't help asking the question, though – "Why not? Why can't we kill with salt or iron?"

"Usually you need to salt and burn the body to get rid of a spirit," he said hurriedly, already walking away, "but since she was cremated we can't really do that. Salt and concentrated iron only hurts them but keeps them away."

"But seriously, don't worry. She travels through mirrors. Your room is safe," Dean called back, following his brother down the stairs.

"That's what they always say in horror movies," Kali pointed out, earning a small smile.

"Just don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine." He shut the car door and they drove off.

"Don't do anything stupid," she mimicked in a high pitched tone and rolled her eyes.

I let out my breath and turned to the door, trying to prepare myself for the unavoidable hours of social awkwardness that were ahead of me. "Right, then. Time for the introductions. Got the key?"

"No, I thought you brought it."

"I couldn't bring it; I was too busy being a hypocrite to Dean." I leaned my head against the door and chuckled wryly to myself. "Look at this. We're already making progress. We're 'establishing trust.'"

"But she's the one opening the door for us."

"Exactly. I feel better about her already." I gritted my teeth and knocked on the door. "Hey, Charley? It's, uh, Chris and Kali. We're friends of Sam and Dean. Er – cousins? Are we cousins?" I whispered to Kali quickly.

"Chris, just let me –"

"I don't remember if we're cousins or not!"

"Get out of the way –"

The door opened. Our furious whispering session ended abruptly. I smiled. "Hi." I stuck out my hand. "I'm Chris. That's Kali. We're friends. Of them –" I pointed down the stairs where Sam and Dean had disappeared. "Um. Let us in?"

It actually went relatively well after that. Charley was nice, if a bit distracted (she was being haunted by an urban legend after all), but the three of us got along for the few hours we knew each other. Kali and I – well, mostly I – tried to get her to sleep, assuring her that when she woke up things would be all better, but for a long time she couldn't. She just sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Kali also yawned a lot, since it was way past her bedtime, but she wouldn't go to sleep either. Eventually we all just lapsed into silence, with me drumming my fingers against the chair and trying to remember the lyrics to the last Led Zeppelin song I'd heard in the Impala.

Finally, around 1:30 am, there was another knock on the door. I jumped up to answer it, noticing that Kali only bobbed her head sluggishly awake – there really wasn't any competition. I grinned and turned around to greet the brothers.

My smile vanished the instant I saw them. For a moment, all I could do was stare. "What the hell happened to you?" I asked, honestly concerned. They had blood smeared all over their faces. Some of it had dripped onto their shirts, drying into dark brown spots that looked undeniably menacing. They looked exhausted.

"Don't ask," Dean said, shouldering his way into the room.

"No, no –" I stuttered exasperatedly. "Don't go in there looking like that! She's bad enough without you barging in on her with all that – blood on you. Here," I grabbed his arm and dragged him in front of me into the bathroom. "You too, Sam. Jesus, you look worse than he does." Sam rolled his eyes at me as he passed.

"Are they okay?" Kali was apparently wide awake now and sounded as concerned as I felt. She came over to stand at the bathroom door.

"They're fine," I told her. "Just a little beat up, I guess."

She leaned in to see for herself, and her eyes widened. "Oh my god, did something try to gouge your eyes out or something?" she asked, dead serious.

"Their eyes were clawed out?" Charley asked suddenly, getting up from Kali's bed.

I raised my eyebrows. I was sure Dean loved the attention we females were giving him, but I was uncomfortable with all of us crowding around the doorway. I sat myself back in my chair, away from the bathroom, and propped my feet up on the bed.

"They're fine," I repeated with emphasis. "And I'm assuming whatever happened, you-know-who's out of the picture. They never look that tired unless something major went down."

"They" walked out of the bathroom looking slightly less gruesome but no less worn-out. Kali and Charley scattered into the room and stood on near me. And of course neither of the guys had said a thing about what they did or how they felt. Leave it to the girls to make a huge fuss over them and have them completely ignore it all.

"Come on, Charley," Sam said. "Time to get you home."

"Right now?" Charley asked, surprised.

"Well, we sort of left two cops out cold on the sidewalk." Dean shrugged, caught Sam's look, and corrected himself, "Okay, _I_ left two cops out cold on the sidewalk, so it's probably best if we got out of here ASAP."

"Aw, come on," I whined. "You're not going to tell us anything? You walk in here, blood streaming down your faces – telling us that you _beat up two cops_ – and you expect us to just accept it and not ask any questions?"

"Well, that's what we'd _like_ you to do," Dean snapped. He obviously wasn't in the mood for this.

"Did the mirror idea work?" Kali asked.

Sam caught his brother's eye and shrugged.

"Fine," Dean growled. "Yes, we did use the mirror idea, and it did work. Congratulations. Happy now?"

"Yes, very," I grinned and stood up, determined to rub it in Dean's face that Kali was smarter than he'd thought. Kali apparently had the same reaction.

"Guess us preppy college girls aren't as stupid as we look, huh?" she smiled sweetly. Dean glanced from her to me and back before shaking his head and storming out of the room, presumably to pack his and Sam's stuff and maybe pay the bill.

"Chris. Kali." Sam nodded to us. "Pack up and we'll meet you at the car." He held out his arm and guided Charley out. Kali and I were left standing in the middle of our room shaking our heads in silence.

We drove Charley home within twenty minutes and she let herself in through the back. Before she left, though, Sam had some Words of Wisdom to impart about dealing with the death of a girlfriend or boyfriend. It was unbelievably awkward listening to him spout Dr. Phil, but I figured if it was all in the name of meaningless drama I could bear it. It was more the conversation that the brothers had later that morning (while Kali and I were "sleeping" in the back) that interested me.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

Sam laughed quietly. "Look. You're my brother, and I'd die for you. But there are some things I need to keep to myself."

And Dean left it at that. I, on the other hand, was dying to find out what "that secret" was.

* * *

"I figure if we hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south – we can be in Bisbee by midnight." Dean paused and watched his brother for a reaction. "Sam wears women's underwear…"

I snorted. We were at a gas station. Kali had her iPod and I figured that since Dean had better music than I did (although I certainly wasn't going to tell him so) I could listen to whatever AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult, or even Metallica he chose. It was a few weks after we'd left Ohio and I was still in the back seat, going out of my mind with boredom. Maybe I could start trying to convince Dean to get Kali and me our own car... He might actually do it, too, if I brought up the fact that if we did we wouldn't be in the same 18x6 foot box together 24/7.

But that would mean I wouldn't be able to listen to his music anymore. Hm…

"I've been listening, I'm just busy." Sam even sounded distracted. Not like I wasn't…

"Busy doing what?"

"Reading emails." The reason I thought I even had a chance with the Car Idea was because Dean had finally given in to Kali's and my combined efforts to get us cell phones. I now had a Blackberry, same as Sam – although I wasn't quite sure what I needed all its features for, since I only knew three people in this world: Kali, Sam, and Dean.

_Damn, that's pathetic_, I realized, then let it go.

"Emails from who?" Dean got out of the car. Maybe, if I was quick enough, I could jump up front and drive the car away, leaving Dean just standing there behind us with a gas pump in his hand. That'd be funny…

But I didn't have the keys. And I couldn't drive stick shift anyway, so… Never mind, then. _Phooey_.

"From my friends at Stanford."

"You're kidding, you still keep in touch with your college buddies?" _Stop being a dick, Dean…_

Kali nudged me. "Stop listening in," she said quietly. "'S rude."

I noticed she still had her headphones in. Was my eavesdropping really that obvious? Maybe it was the way I was making faces at Dean while he had his back turned…

I stuck my tongue out at her. "You're just as interested as I am," I whispered. "And besides, what am I supposed to do? Cover my ears and pretend I can't hear them? They're right there. And it's not lying," I added to Dean, who was standing outside my window and telling Sam that not telling Stanford that he hunts ghosts and stuff was 'lying.' "It's – omitting certain truths."

"Shut up, Chris," Dean said offhandedly.

I shrugged and went back to Kali, rolling my eyes pointedly. "You're right. Since it annoys Dean so much, I'll stop." Stupid idiot was leaning up against my window so all I could see was his butt. He was doing it on purpose, too. I nodded to it disgustedly. "Look at that."

"What?" Kali glanced up, saw Dean's backside, and gave me a look. "I dare you to tap the window."

"No, that's like tapping his butt. Through glass. Ew."

"Aw, come on Chris, he's asking for it."

"You're asking for it…"

"Then roll it down or something."

"No! Then I'd have his ass in my face, not just next to my ear. That's disgusting. Got any other great ideas, Einstein? I'm dying to hear them." I shuddered at the image of Dean sitting through his car window and into my face – but as soon as I substituted Kali for me, it started looking funny. "Tell you what, let's switch seats and then you can tap Dean's butt and have it as close to your face as you like."

"Ugh, Chris!"

"You two wanna be quiet back there?" Sam asked suddenly. "Something just came up."

"What?" I leaned forward, instantly serious. Finally, something with weight to occupy me.

"It's this girl, Rebecca. I went to school with her and her brother, Zack."

Dean came to the passenger seat window. "She hot?"

Sam shook his head at his brother. "She says Zack's been charged with – murder? He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but… Sounds like the cops have a pretty good case."

"What do you mean, 'pretty good?'" I asked.

"DNA, fingerprints…They even have security camera footage." Sam scrolled up and down on his blackberry in growing agitation.

"Dude, what kind of friends you hang out with?" Dean said incredulously.

"No shit," Kali murmured.

"No, you don't understand. I know Zack – he's no killer." He sounded very confident in that statement.

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you."

_Oh, that didn't sound foreboding at all…_ I could suddenly see how this episode would play out. Zack would turn out to be guilty and Sam would have to deal with the idea that even the people in his normal life were screwed. Wonderful. Didn't he have enough problems to deal with already?

"They're in St. Louis. We're going." _Bad idea, Sam…_

Kali and I glanced at each other while Sam and Dean bickered about whether we were going to St. Louis or Bisbee. They obviously cared a lot about what we thought, since the number of times they asked us for our opinion came out to a grand total of – none. I sat back in my seat and propped my feet up on Kali's lap darkly.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I drawled. I wasn't really lying. "Just… them being them again." I gestured toward the Winchesters in front. "Completely ignoring us until we say something they don't like, or do something wrong, or need our help sheltering victims…"

She nodded in understanding, then grabbed the seat, startled, as Dean made a high speed U-turn as we left the gas station. "St. Louis it is, then?" she asked.

"Yup," muttered Dean.

Kali puffed out her cheeks. "Good, because I never want to go into another mine again."

"Yeah. I doubt mining towns can be that interesting anyway," I consoled. "St. Louis, though… Doesn't it have some major jazz connections or something? Jazz or blues?"

"I don't know," Kali shrugged.

"Yeah, it does," I mused. "We'll have to check it out. Although I was looking forward to taking the 3:10 to Yuma."

"Actually, that was somewhere else," Dean said. "They started in Bisbee and had to make it to Contention. Since when did you watch old Westerns?"

"I don't. There's a remake in 2007 with Russel Crowe and Christian Bale. It's amazing. You should watch it."

"Remake in 2007," Dean chuckled. "Guess I'll have to wait for that one."

* * *

**Kali's POV**

"That was awesome," Chris said with a satisfied grin as we exited the jazz club. We had just spent the past two hours or so relaxing, drinking a glass of wine and a virgin Bloody Mary (that was Chris – she thought she was being funny), mostly enjoying the rhythm of the band on stage.

It had been a few days since we landed in St. Louis. Sam felt it best that we stay pretty far away from this one, and had us dropped off at a hotel before they stopped by his friend Rebecca's. He said that it was too personal to let random "cousins" get involved, which I agreed with. We actually hadn't seen them all day, or received any calls. But while this wasn't abnormal, we still ended up expecting them. It was a personal potential concern of mine that they might end up dead and we wouldn't hear about it until we read it on the news or something. Dean's "if we die" plan was still quite clear in my head, but that honestly wasn't a worry at the moment. At the moment, I was having fun.

We headed back to the room in high spirits, and I sat on the couch with my head leaned back. Unlike Chris - who was invariably a night owl - I was tired.

"Man, that bouncer made me nervous," Chris chuckled as she plopped down in one of the dining chairs.

"Why?" I asked nonchalantly.

"I thought he was gonna search us."

"And why would that make you nervous, Chris?" I sounded like a monotone councilor.

"Because I had that iron knife stuck in the side of my shoe."

I opened my eyes and turned to her in alarm.

"You brought a knife into a jazz club? Chris, seriously."

"I was just kidding, Kali. You know I wouldn't do that." She snickered some more, and I noticed she was spinning the knife sideways on the table. "Besides, I couldn't keep it up with just the shoe. I'd need boots or something. Swashbuckling boots…" I rolled my eyes. With a lazy sigh of annoyance I turned back around and rested my head again.

"You hungry?" she added, stopping the knife. "For, like, real food, not just the table peanuts they had in the club?"

"Sure."

"All right, I'll be back. Don't fall asleep, you freakish morning person," she joked, and I gave a false laugh, but in good humor.

It couldn't have been more than two minutes later when someone knocked on the door. My brow creased curiously and I looked at the clock on the in-table.

"It's 11:10," I mumbled to myself, getting up, wondering who the hell would be knocking at this time. "She must have forgotten her wallet, or something." I opened the door. "Dean."

Well, this was a bit of a surprise. Usually the brothers didn't come calling on us at this hour unless we had to get out of town, but his calm demeanor and small smirk of greeting implied that he wasn't really in a hurry. Why couldn't he have just called?

"Hey," he replied.

"Where's Sam?" I glanced down the hall inquisitively.

"He's just checking up on Rebecca. Can I come in?"

I paused for a moment, wondering why he even had to ask. Since when did Dean ever have to have my permission to go anywhere? Then again, I wondered why he was here in the first place – not that he wasn't allowed to drop by, of course, but still…

I cocked my head. "You're not gonna drag another damsel in distress in for babysitting, are you?"

He smiled smoothly. "No, but I do need to talk to you."

That sounded ominous – but I honestly couldn't fathom a worthy topic for him to knock on the door this late at night to discuss, so maybe it was Dean being goofy. After all, Sam wasn't there to censor him.

"Sure," I said, stepping aside and closing the door behind him.

"Where's Chris?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"Went for a walk, to get food."

He gave a huff of amusement. "Yeah, I know she hates being cooped up too long."

I had to nod in agreement to that, and an awkward silence followed.

"So?" I finally said, watching him pick up the iron knife on the dining table and put it down again.

"I had to check in and make sure you guys were okay."

This was not as serious as I thought. Maybe it _was_ just Dean joking around. But after a month of hanging around with him, I knew he wasn't this good at deadpan. He didn't have that big ridiculous smirk he usually wore when he was kidding.

"What's up? Are we in danger?" After they pulled that poor Charley girl in for us to look after, the possibility that their job could turn on us had started to occupy my mind. Chris' paranoid rants hadn't helped, either.

"Maybe," he answered, sitting down on the couch. "Am I not allowed to check up on you sometimes?"

"Well, yeah, but… You haven't so much as called us all day, and didn't even speak to us last night."

"Well, I'm here now aren't I?" He looked at me. I hesitated to call it a "leer" exactly, but that's what it felt like.

I rolled my eyes and tried to shrug it off, slipping my hands in my back pockets and pulling them out again – a nervous habit. Except I wasn't quite sure what made me nervous. "Whatever, so what do you _think _we're in danger from?"

"We're not sure yet, but he's a killer and he keeps slipping through our fingers, so I came to give you a heads up."

"'He?' It's a person?"

"We don't know. Not for sure."

That was a little unsettling, but I trusted them to find whatever it was and keep it away from Chris and me. After all, Dean was so keen to keep us out of the way for our own protection, and if his first impulse was to come back and warn us that there's a killer on the loose who might target us, then I trusted he was keeping us in mind while out hunting… whatever they were hunting. But then - if Sam was out checking on his friend Rebecca and Dean was here checking on me – who was checking on Chris?

"Dean," I said suddenly. "Did you see Chris on your way out?" Wait – why was I asking that? Of course he didn't see Chris. He'd never let her out alone—

"Yeah, I passed her on the stairwell. Told me she was going out for a few minutes."

—Or. Maybe he would. I bit my lip uncertainly. A minute ago he asked where she was, but that could have just been a polite inquiry. Something was definitely up. "Oh," I said finally. "Ok."

Another silence followed, and I was looking down at my hands when I noticed he was staring. I stared back for a moment and my heart skipped, because I could have sworn I saw a white flare in his eyes.

I shook myself. This was absurd. So I was tired and seeing things and Dean was acting a little weird – big deal. The man hunted the stuff of nightmares. He was allowed a few odd moments now and then. "So, how was your day? Was it all right? You look kinda…sweaty…"

His lips curved slightly and he shook his head, and he almost looked sweet. "I'm fine, just a little warm in here. Did a lot of running around today."

That hardly looked like perspiration from a run, and he'd been sitting for a while.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, Kali."

"Dean-"

"I'm fine!" he shouted maliciously, making me jump, half in surprise and half in fear. I'd never seen him look that angry before. His features softened almost immediately after, realizing how he just acted. God, but he was acting like one of those creepy abusive boyfriends who bought their partners roses and chocolates after every time they beat them. I shivered uncomfortably.

"Sorry." I walked away to the kitchen, or somewhere away from him, but he grabbed my hand.

"No! Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout," he pleaded, gently tugging my hand down. "Please don't leave."

He was acting so strange, and I was genuinely concerned for him. Maybe he was sick, but he hardly had that swelled up look of someone who was having a fever, it was just the sweat… and the bipolar mood swing. Cold water would be the best thing.

"I'm not leaving," I said. "I'll open the window. Do you want some water or something?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

He seemed eager to make me comfortable again, which I didn't mind because I had convinced myself he was ill. My eyes were getting heavy again from the drowsiness, so I decided to make some coffee as well. I approached the window while the water heated, then brought the glass of water to him. I noticed he was holding his head and wincing a little.

"You all right?" I asked, and his head shot in my direction like I'd just snapped him out of a reverie.

"Yeah, thanks." He took the glass of water and sipped it before putting it on the coffee table, and I sat down, resting my head on folded fists in his direction expectedly. "What?" he asked, almost defensively.

"You said you needed to talk to me about something, and we have yet to discuss anything important that you knocked on the door at 11: 15 at night to bring up, besides the mention that there's a killer on the loose."

He chuckled and put his elbows on his knees, folding his hands in front of his face.

"Not much gets by you, huh?"

"No," I replied, just to humor him.

He sat there for a minute with a thoughtful smirk, then clapped his hands and looked at me.

"Honestly, I didn't come here to talk about anything."

"Really?" I lifted my head and instead rested my chin in one hand, looking at him with equal humor. I wasn't all that surprised by his answer.

The kettle beeped and I stood up to make my cup of coffee – but didn't let him off the hook, of course.

"So what's your real reason for dropping by?"

He didn't answer but I could picture him smiling to himself because he really hadn't prepared a valid excuse, as he probably didn't expect me to look into it and just accept his company for a little while. At least, that was my assumption. I'd let him hang around for friendly conversation until Sam arrived, or if Chris came back and wanted to kick him out of the room for taking up space. I had to chuckle to myself at the literal image.

The couch made a noise as he stood up, but I didn't pay attention. I was still picturing Chris trying to hold him by the back of the pants and boot him out the doorway.

Suddenly two hands were on my waist, and I froze. His lips moving against my ear, his nose smelling my hair, the warmth of his body lightly pressing against mine – I shuddered. His fingers moved up, grazing the skin under my shirt. His real intentions were now inescapably clear and I had no idea what to do. All the mild flirting between us never had me considering a comeback for something on this level, because it was completely unexpected. He never seemed like he would try anything like this – it had to be a joke.

My chest tightened as one of his hands came up to push my hair aside, and his lips moved down to touch my neck. Then suddenly I was turned around, face to face with barely an inch between us, and feeling an arm snake around me and forcing my body against his. This was no joke.

"What are you doing?" I wavered, still at a loss as to how to handle the situation. All logic was in a haze right now, but my instinct came through instead telling me what the right thing was to do.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, and before I could question why I should be afraid, he kissed me – which threw me for a loop. His lips moved against mine and he squeezed me closer, but I was completely unresponsive, dumbfounded and yet my head rang clear as a bell: "Stop it now while you can!"

I put my hands on his shoulders and made an urgent noise while pushing back to imply I wanted him to back off. He didn't stop, though, and I pushed harder, more urgently to get him off me. This wasn't Dean. I knew he was honorable on some level, and _he_ would not cross the boundary like this.

Then my cell phone rang in my front pocket. He stopped kissing me and instinctively I reached for the phone, looking for any form of distraction that would give me a chance to obtain my bearings.

"Leave it," he said, taking it out of my hand when I fumbled with it and sliding it down the counter, well out of my reach.

"It might be Chris," I cut in, right as he tried to kiss me again, and he looked very impatient.

"She can wait."

He leaned down again and I turned away.

"Dean, get off me!"

He started to get more aggressive, pinning me against the counter with his body and turning my head with his hands, with me literally squirming beneath him. This was getting way out of hand, and I felt an icy twinge of fear in my chest as the thought of 'rape' began pounding in my mind. He wasn't Dean, he wasn't stopping. I was terrified of the worst.

Then I remembered we were in a motel.

"Help!" I screamed, and instantly his hand clamped down over my mouth, and the look in his eyes was evil. There was no other way to describe it, and he looked fully capable of doing murder.

"I don't want to hurt you, Kali."

It was obviously a threat, and I still didn't know what to do. Pinned between him and the counter, there wasn't much room for escape. He'd overpower me easily if I tried to get away. I thought of the knife on the table, the one Chris had left, but I had to get to it first.

I reached around behind me, desperately searching for something to hit him with. The hot surface of a coffee mug grazed the back of my hand, and I grasped the handle and poured the contents on top of my aggressor. Immediately his body shot back and he gave a shout, and I took the chance and broke the mug on his face. Quickly I ran for the table, reaching for the knife and turning around as he followed me. Suddenly he stopped, barely a foot away, grimacing. I looked down, saw that the blade had gone through his stomach and gasped.

He stumbled backward, leaving me with the bloody knife still in my hand and holding his hand over his wound. He had this look of surprise and helplessness on his face. This look of betrayal.

"Oh, God." I leaned forward a little when he fell to the ground.

"Kali," he gurgled, and I panicked. That look in his eyes, could it really be him? Had I just stabbed Dean? "Help me." His voice was weak, shocked, and I took a step toward him without thinking.

"No." I moved back again and took a deliberate step toward the door. My instinct told me to run, and right now instinct sounded pretty good because I didn't want to take any chances. He was sick with something. Something weird that made him act that way. Some kind of ghost sickness, or he was possessed, or – anything. Whatever it was, I couldn't stick around. I had to find Sam or Chris to help him. _Oh fuck… I stabbed him!_

Staring at his feeble body on the floor, I stumbled toward the door and, not daring to turn my back, opened it and ran out. I looked over my shoulder constantly to see if he would try to pursue me, but he never did, and I began to feel a little foolish for thinking he would. I just stabbed him in the gut. He wouldn't bother to chase me down. I slowed to a walk, gasping and turning around to stare at my door – a long ways down the hall by now. I neared the steps leading to the first floor, my whole body pumping with adrenaline, and glanced down at the knife still in my hand. I'd never stabbed anyone before. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, that knife going into a human body. How easily it went through flesh.

I just wanted to find Chris, so I turned back to the stairs.

"Ah!" I screamed, flinching back at the man who just came running up behind me from the stairs. It was Dean… somehow. _Did he jump out the window and run back up here?_ It was a reflex. I threw the mug handle I didn't know I was still holding at his head, and bolted down the hall… again. Why I didn't throw the knife instead I'll never know, but I would have missed anyway. I was too startled to aim.

"Whoah!" he gasped. "Kali!"

This time I would lock him out. I ran back into the room, slamming the door quickly and locking it. Then I backed up a little. Soon enough the handle started to jiggle and the door itself began to shake because he was hammering on it.

"Kali!"

It didn't look like he would get through anytime soon, so I went to get the cell phone and call Chris, the police, anybody. The moment I turned around my nose met another nose, and I flinched back and screamed yet again to see Dean… again. He was smirking at me.

"Kali, get outta there! It's a shapeshifter!" Dean's muffled voice shouted from the other side.

A shapeshifter? I didn't need anyone to tell me what that was. It was pretty self-explanatory, and I felt relieved that this wasn't really Dean, and a little frightened that it was something else – possibly the killer that it mentioned earlier, which did not bode well for me. Once again, it seemed, I was the damsel in distress.

_But I won't be a helpless one._

I didn't wait. I brought that knife forward, this time deliberately, and stabbed him right in the heart. He flinched a little bit and looked down, and I gave an inward smile of triumph. Then he looked back up at me, smiling, and I stared aghast.

"Weren't you listening to me before, Kali?" He pulled the knife out and gripped it for his own. "Iron only works on spirits." He chuckled, and I looked at the knife. I didn't remember him saying that to me exactly, but now was a wonderful time to know. _Shit._

"Dean!" I yelled, maneuvering myself away from the shapeshifter toward the dining table. He followed like a predator, fingering that knife coolly between his fingers. I had really pissed him off, and didn't know any fancy moves to get that knife out of his hand and away from me. "DEAN!" I shouted even louder.

"What?" The banging on the door stopped for a second.

"How do I kill it?"

"Silver! You need silver!"

"Where the fuck am I supposed to get silver?" I screamed back at him, already edging my way toward the kitchen. They typically didn't leave silverware in a motel room, but it was worth a look.

"Sam, there's an emergency box on the stairs with an axe in it, go get it," I heard him say from outside.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Kali," the shapeshifter coaxed, and I decided to forget the kitchen and maybe just jump out the window. There was a fire escape that way, which also meant there was nothing to stop him from following me, but at least I'd have somewhere to run. "I liked you a lot, you're a sweet girl." I started to tremble a little when he grasped the knife more firmly, and looked poised to run at me. "But you've left me no choice."

I bolted for the window, but was tackled to the ground long before I reached it. Now I started to scream as hard as I could, hitting and kicking and scratching, whatever it took to get him off me. He put me on my back and straddled me, fighting for my hands.

"Hold still!" he shouted, grabbing both my wrists and pinning them to my chest. I continued to scream for help, and he took my wrists in one hand and put the other over my mouth. "Ssshh," he hissed, putting his face close to mine and running the knife across my collarbone, making me whimper as he cut through skin.

Then there was a violent cracking on the door, and we both looked over to see the head of an axe appear through the wood. _Oh, God, please hurry_.

The shapeshifter looked back down at me as if contemplating his next move. That axe would make short work of the door, which made me afraid that he would just kill me quick right now and make a run for it. Instead he leered at me.

"You're lucky I'm an artist." He held the blade up next to my eye to imply his meaning, then removed his hand from my mouth and made for the window, leaving me to roll over on my side coughing from the lack of air with tears in my eyes.

Soon after, the door burst open, and gunshots were fired.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, so it's Silver-Eyed-Kat with an author's note for once. Yay! So this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others because we immediately decided there was no way to shorten it and make it good at the same time. Also, I can't tell you how many times we have revised/changed this chapter, especially the part with shapeshifter Dean showing up at the motel room. We pretty much changed that scene entirely, then kept changing little things, and changing more, before we were finally happy with it. This is the big turning point in the story, finally, and thanks to those of you who have bared with us this far. We really do love this story, and we're trying to make it as realistic and fun as possible, and we're working hard and brainstorming with our analytical minds to do it. SO… because we love it so much we would REALLY appreciate if you would at least review it, and tell us what you think. Half the fun is getting feedback. We put a lot of thought into the details and it's disappointing when no one reviews to say it's cool or that they appreciate it, so please! Review!**

**The next chapter is already started and in-progress, so stay tuned! Peace!**

**And this is Norangutan. All I have to say is that S-E-K totally quoted 10-Inch-Hero up there ("Peace!"), and I fully recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it – and to those who have, too, since it's an awesome movie and everyone should watch it if only because we get to see Jensen tackle a total asshole and wear cool shirts and joke about really serious things like vegetarianism and … whether Elvis is dead or not … I don't know, Priestly is one of the best characters I've seen in a movie since Pirates of the Caribbean (Jack Sparrow is amazing). So, yeah. Peace!**


	11. St Louis

**Chapter 11 – Chris' POV**

I caught up with Sam and Dean at the door, Sam just giving his brother a fire axe used only for emergencies. "Dean, no!" I screamed just as Dean swung down, splintering the door to my room.

"What?" He glared at me. I tossed him my room keys. He caught them in midair and stared at them for a moment, annoyed. "You couldn't give me these sooner?"

"Dean, open the door!" Sam yelled.

He put the keys in and turned the lock, but the door only opened about two inches and stopped. The chain lock was still on.

"Son of a bitch." He ignored my earlier protest and raised the axe again, bringing it down hard on the chain and breaking it off the wall.

They burst through the doorway, firing shots as they went in. I ran after them, terrified of what I might find. But it was all right – Kali was on the floor with her hands around her neck, bleeding from a cut on her collarbone and coughing. Obviously alive. I ran to her and helped her sit up, watching as Sam and Dean ran to the window of the kitchen and looked out. They had stopped firing.

"Chris," Kali croaked finally, and hugged me. I blinked in surprise, but got over it quickly and hugged her back, fierce, because it felt good and I needed it. I was so relieved I almost started crying. For only a few minutes of total uncertainty, this release was pretty huge. We sat there for a few moments just trying to calm down.

"Kali?" Dean asked finally, stepping forward. She saw him and jumped a little, looking scared for a split second, but realized that it was him immediately after and settled down again.

I, watching quietly, froze. I could take any other reaction from Kali – indignation, shock, or just plain anger – but fear? She shouldn't have had to be afraid at all. That was the whole point of us staying out of everything in the first place. I couldn't believe she was actually afraid – my friend, my _best_ friend had almost been murdered, and none of it would have happened if Dean had listened to me, or had just done a better job protecting Kali.

Kali must have seen the look on my face because she put her hand on my shoulder as I started up angrily and murmured, "Chris. Not now…not now."

I clenched my jaw in frustration. I couldn't understand why she didn't want to pursue this. But I sat back anyway and looked at her. True, she was alive, but obviously that wasn't enough. I started taking real stock of the situation. Kali was cut and bleeding and was beginning to show black marks on her arms. It looked as though someone had tried to strangle her, too. Of course she was traumatized – the least I could do was follow her lead. If she wanted to keep things quiet, I'd forget my outrage and shut up.

Kali noticed me checking her over and touched her collarbone, rubbing the blood between her fingers weakly. "Somebody just get me a rag or something."

I jumped up to get a washcloth from the bathroom. Anything to get me to feel useful again. When I got back, Sam was gone.

"He went to get their first aid kit," Kali explained, holding her hand out for the washcloth. I dropped it into her hand, feeling like an idiot and trying not to take it out by throwing the wet mass at Dean's head.

"Did he hurt you anywhere else?" he asked. _Take another step forward and I'll punch your teeth in._

"No. I'm fine." _KALI. Why are you being so nice? How can you even stand his face right now?_

Sam came back in with the small, red pack and I took it from his hands. I wasn't going to let either of the brothers near Kali anymore – even if Sam wasn't supportive of Dean's insane attempts to protect us, he still had a part in them. I had to remind myself to be gentle while cleaning Kali up. She hadn't done anything.

A creak in the doorway broke the silence. "What the hell is going on here?" Everyone whirled around to see who was speaking. The fat guy who owned the motel was turning the door open and closed, looking between us in the room, the axe on the floor, and the door with the great, big, gaping hole in the front.

"Ah. Um, we can explain that," Sam said, stepping forward.

_Can we really?_ I thought, and crossed my arms to see how we would get out of this one. This promised to be interesting.

"Our friend here," he gestured to Kali, "was attacked. The door was locked so-"

I rolled my eyes and tuned him out. The question was a relatively stupid one, anyway, since thieves or murderers wouldn't stick around after a job like this (as had been shown by whoever had gotten to Kali). We were obviously recovering from something – but the motel owner was probably wondering what that was exactly (and should therefore have asked "What happened here" instead of "What is happening here?" See? Only relative stupidity).

I glanced around the room for the first time since I'd gotten back and made a checklist. There was an open window, a lot of coffee on the kitchen floor and the door was locked from the inside. I frowned, bemused as to what this added up to, and made another, more thorough, look.

_Dean's not wearing his necklace._

My eyes widened as I realized Dean's only piece of jewelry besides his ring was gone. I stared hard at him for a while before he noticed and gave me a weird look. I rolled my eyes again and turned my attention back to Sam, who had pretty much said that Kali had been attacked and we had saved her.

"In that case, calling the police was probably a good idea." The fat man turned to go.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dean stepped forward.

"When my tenants called me saying that they had heard gunshots and screaming, well. The first thing I did was call the police. They should be here any minute now. You should probably stay put so they can find out who attacked your friend and catch the bastard." He looked at Kali sympathetically. "Do you need anything, or will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you, sir," Kali answered, and he nodded and left.

There was a weird shuffling of eyes as everyone tried to communicate what the plan was without looking at or speaking to anyone else. Eventually Sam and Dean left the room to go pack, since it was obvious we just had to leave. Kali stood where she was for a moment before following suit and getting her bag.

"No, Kali, wait." I took her duffel. "I'll pack for you. I know where all your stuff is. Just – it'll be okay." She nodded dispassionately and went to sit at the dining table. I stepped my pace up, not even bothering to fold clothes before I stuffed them in the bags. I finished a couple of minutes later and turned toward the kitchen to get the first aid kit so I could finish up on Kali. It was then that I saw the pool of blood on the tile floor, only a few feet away from the coffee.

Kali was staring at it, too, in a wide-eyed trance. Suddenly she leaped up from the chair and rushed to the bathroom. Concerned, I ran to the door and looked in to see her gagging over the toilet.

"Kali?"

She spit what was left in her mouth and leaned up, not looking at me.

"I just wanna get out of here," she replied through a swollen throat.

"Here," I said, bringing some bandage tape over. "Hold still for a while." I was having mad flashbacks to when I first arrived in this convoluted world of horrors. Me bandaging Kali up. Not again…

"Thanks," said Kali quietly, standing up when I was done. "You have blood on your shirt."

I looked down, then at my shoulder. "Oh." Some of her blood had seeped in when I had hugged her. I shrugged it off. "So I'll get a new one. You all right?"

"Of course not."

"Okay."

The floor behind me creaked. Sam was in the room now, carrying his backpack over his shoulder. "Police are here," he announced. "We have to leave out the fire escape."

As we clambered down the metal stairs, I couldn't help but wonder where my life had led me. Two months ago, if anyone had asked me whether I planned on escaping out back windows after nearly witnessing a homicide to avoid being taken in and questioned by the police because my identity was nonexistent…I don't know if I would have laughed in their face or just looked at them funny. It was definitely not the most normal of situations. I gritted my teeth. If I was going to be arrested, I wanted to be arrested for _doing_ something, not for being an accessory.

An accessory in all definitions of the word. Kali and I could be Sam and Dean's handbags for all they cared. They wanted to keep us clean like girls wanted Pradas in pristine condition. Just the thought made me feel used.

I felt dirty for even thinking the words, but thank God for something cataclysmic to make Dean change his mind.

I shook my head to clear the thought and kept moving. That was uncalled for. Just because I felt used and relatively worthless did not give me permission to think this situation was in any way good.

We made it to the Impala and got in our respective places in a hurry. Then Dean banged the wheel and looked at Sam.

"Son of a bitch still has my keys," he growled, ducking down to get under the wheel. "I'm sorry, baby," he mumbled at the car and I rolled my eyes yet again, turning my attention to the police sirens echoing down the main street. We had to hurry.

After a few sparks near where Dean had his head, the car came to life and he jammed it in reverse and smoothly left the parking lot. The police didn't even notice us leaving. As I checked out the back window, three cars turned into the motel entrance.

We drove and drove, past healthy, well-kept, normal homes and gardens and through what looked like downtown, with trashy alleyways and tall, foreboding, old apartment buildings. I didn't ask where we were going, mostly because I just didn't care. I was still trying to figure out why I thought sticking with Sam and Dean was a better option than just leaving the car right then and making my own life somewhere else. I looked over to see Kali hugging her duffel bag to her chest and resting her head on it, her eyes drooping closed. She had her dark green jacket on with the hood pulled over her head, hiding herself away. I bit the inside of my lip and turned back toward the window.

The Impala turned into a deserted road with a barbed wire fence on one side and a multistory business building that looked like it had been built in the twenties. Curiously enough, Dean pulled in front of the gate and Sam stepped out, opening the trunk. I leaned forward and read the sign posted on the fence.

"To be demolished," I muttered. Part of me was relieved that the date for which the demolition was scheduled wasn't for another week. The other part was in shock that I was actually going to stay in a building scheduled for demolition. Wasn't this generally called squatting – i.e., _illegal_?

I tried taking a deep breath. Now I was just complaining. Not twenty minutes ago I had been whining how Sam and Dean never took us on anything remotely criminal, and now that we were just trying to find a place to sleep for the night I was going to start being moral? That wasn't hypocritical at all…

The deep breath did nothing to help my attitude.

Sam walked by my window and I watched as he took some hefty wire cutters to the chain lock on the gate, snapped it in half, then opened the gate as we entered. Looking through the back window, I saw him close the entrance and wrap the chains around each other to make them look unbroken. Dean paused as Sam tossed the cutters back in the trunk and got in.

"Usually they have parking under the building," said Sam as he closed the door. "We could park the car there."

Dean nodded and I sat back quietly, observing the structure ahead of us. Luckily Sam was right and we got our packs and some flashlights from the trunk before heading up the stairs. I shone my flashlight into the gloom of the stairwell and was startled as a bird – or, more likely, a bat – flapped out of the darkness and over our heads. Trust Sam and Dean to find the creepiest, most dilapidated old place they could after just getting my friend almost killed.

"Stay close," Sam said, looking at Kali and me. _Oh, yeah, _now_ get protective…_

We made our way to what looked like an office, where there were plenty of old couches and chairs in what could be some lounge or waiting room.

"We'll crash here," announced Dean, dropping his duffel bag and stirring up some dust on the floor.

"This is unbelievable," I coughed, setting my bag on a couch to test if it was just as dusty. It was.

"We can't stay in another motel. The police will be investigating what happened at the last one. We're safer here," explained Sam.

_Safer in this shithole… How very…peachy_, I thought with real venom.

Kali didn't say anything and instead claimed a couch by setting her bag down and taking a seat next to it. I was still concerned that she wasn't saying much, but then I noticed Dean was staring at her with a – well, if I were in a more charitable mood, it would have been a woeful expression. Like he wanted to talk to her, or maybe even apologize.

But since I wasn't in a charitable mood, I thought he just looked like he needed a good kick in the gonads.

"There's a lantern in the back of the car. I'll get it," he said suddenly, averting his eyes and walking out of the room.

Neither Sam nor Kali said anything in the time it took for him to walk all the way to the parking lot and back. I didn't say anything, either, but claimed a spot on the loveseat next to Kali. When Dean returned, he put the lantern on the small coffee table in front of the couches, turning it on before taking a seat away from us. There was a long pause.

"Look, Kali – Chris. We're really sorry," Sam started gently. "We only found out it was a shapeshifter today, and by the time we found it he'd already turned the tables on us. We came as fast as we could the moment we knew you were in danger."

I blinked. "An excuse me?"

Kali looked at me. "A shapeshifter," she repeated. "Changes shape?"

"Oh," I said, everything coming together – Dean's missing necklace and the fact that Kali had let in some random stranger she'd only ever heard of from Sam – and had felt safe enough with him to lock the door behind her. Something had taken Dean's shape and attacked Kali in it. "Oh, wait, so this _isn't_ your typical, run-of-the-mill 'attempted homicide.' This is just your typical, run-of-the-mill job incompetence."

"Chris."

"No way, Kali. I am not shutting up. I can understand if normal shit happens – that's not part of the show. I can forgive them for just not being around when the regular world gets in the way. But almost getting you killed because they don't know how to do their job? That's fucked up, and you know it." I stood up, my fists clenched.

Sam stood up, too. "Don't know how to do our job? Chris, you knew the dangers when you stayed with us—"

"Bullshit, Sam. I didn't know squat about the dangers. Dean took care of that, thanks _so_ very much."

"You were there with the Wendigo. You saw how it could get."

"Oh, yeah, look at that. Yet _another_ instance where you had to let someone get killed before you started showing people how they could defend themselves."

"Chris!" Kali shouted.

I knew I deserved that one, but I was on a roll. "Tell me, how long did you know Roy? Three hours? Maybe four? We've stayed with you two months. Two – months! We don't know shit and you expect us to be better off than anyone else you've ever met? How could you not see this one coming?" I paused, looking from Dean to Sam. "Huh?"

"Because I didn't, all right?" Sam exploded. "You were outside our world there, in that room. You were supposed to be safe!"

I took a step back, surprised at Sam's outburst. He'd been pretty calm up until that moment. "Yeah?" I said icily. "Well, we weren't. We were sitting ducks there, just waiting for anyone – any_thing_ – to…" I jerked my hand at Kali expressively, but the fire had gone out of my words. The coldness now was just to defend myself from Sam's anger.

There was a very long silence after that. In those moments I had more than enough time to think about my words – which now mortified even me. I obviously hadn't made Sam think of just Roy when I'd claimed he let people die while he was hunting. Some apologies seemed to be in order, but nobody wanted to start. Sam was still steaming, Kali and Dean just weren't talking, and I… well, what was keeping me?

Eventually I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry, Sam," I said softly but firmly. "I've been assuming something like this would happen, but that doesn't give me leave to just scream out anything that pops into my head. I'm sorry for saying all that stuff about job incompetence and…and Roy." I passed my hand over my face tiredly. "And Dean, I'm sorry for…for automatically assuming you couldn't do your job." I sat down.

Dean looked up from his hands, surprise written all over what little I could see of his face in the dark. Sam looked equally caught off-guard. "What?"

I shrugged. "I'm asking your forgiveness. I shouldn't have said what I said and… you probably think I've been completely unbearable for the last two months. I'm sorry."

"Well…okay," said Dean slowly, to my surprise. Not that I thought it wouldn't be (accepted) – just that I didn't think the acceptance would come from him. Sam nodded, but was silent. We all were, again, for several moments.

"So what now?"

We all looked at Kali as she sat up and pushed her hood back. She still looked a little frail but definitely awake. "The bastard's running loose still. What do we do?" she asked more clearly.

"I'm not sure," Sam answered, sitting down again. "It's still wearing Dean's skin, which is a serious problem with the police involved, so we need to catch it soon before it tries to kill someone else."

"Yeah, Sam, but how do we find it? There's no way it'll go back to its lair in the sewers," Dean put in.

"You're right. It'll be keeping a low profile, like us. We'll just have to keep looking for it."

"Well, neither of us is doing this alone, and we can't leave them by themselves. I'll be damned if we make the same mistake twice." Dean sounded very serious about that statement.

"I don't think he'd come for me or Chris again," Kali spoke up. "Obviously he came after me because I didn't know what he was, and with Dean's skin I was the easiest one to go after. He's been a step ahead of you from the start. He's smart, and he wouldn't come back to target me or Chris again for kicks. He'll probably lay low for a few days, maybe even weeks, or leave town completely."

"I don't think it'll do that," said Sam thoughtfully. "Every job it does, it's as if it's trying to frame the boyfriend and take away all he ever had. It's a personal vendetta against anyone who ever had anything good in their life."

"What, you mean like a girlfriend?" I asked. Sam nodded. "Wait a minute, this is the same thing that got your friend Zack? This is all connected?"

"Yes, Chris, none of this would have happened if we hadn't gone looking into Zack's case," Sam said tiredly.

That hurt. "Hey, I'm not blaming anyone anymore. I said I was sorry – _you_ said you were sorry. We're moving on. We're – we're ignoring everything I ever said."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Sam shrugged.

"So – so the thing's probably going to stick around and try to frame Dean. Like it's gonna stick the cops on our tail and we'll have our hands too full to bother about it anymore," I prompted, as if I knew anything.

We all stared at each other in silence. Clearly we were at a crossroads of options, and no single one was immediately favorable at this point.

"Well, whatever happens, we can't leave town," Sam sighed. "I can't leave Rebecca on her own. The shapeshifter could just as well go after her. It has Dean's memories. It'll know where she is, and she'll be just as vulnerable as Kali."

"You said silver can kill him," Kali inquired to Dean, who nodded. "Just arm us with some silver knives or bullets and we'll be fine."

"Do you even know how to use a gun?" he asked back.

"We can learn." I smiled in grim satisfaction at the steel in her voice.

"You're sure you can use it," Sam asked after a moment.

"I won't hesitate to shoot the bastard if that's what you mean," Kali said coldly. Even I was surprised at the extent of her sudden transformation. She looked determined. She looked like she was out for revenge. Sam and Dean must have seen it, too, because they said nothing more about it.

"All right. We'll stay here for the night, maybe lay low tomorrow before we head out again. I have to go talk to Rebecca," Sam said, sitting himself on the third and final couch, leaving Dean no choice but to sleep in the comfy chair.

"What are you gonna tell her?" Dean asked.

He sighed. "The truth, I guess."

My eyes darted over to Kali when her flashlight clicked off. I watched her pull a sweatshirt out of her duffel bag and over her jacket, tugging both hoods up and basically bundling herself up before lying down. She used the bag as a pillow and turned on her side, facing away from everyone else. I bit my lip again at her withdrawal not only from Sam and Dean but also from me. The rejection of the brothers I could understand, but of me? Now Kali had me worried.

I was exhausted, but I knew I wasn't going to sleep for another few hours – if I got to sleep at all tonight. I almost got up to go outside, but stopped. Taking a walk now was stupid. That thing that had tried to kill Kali was out there and it could get me if I wandered off alone. I leaned back on the couch again and scuffed my shoe through the dust. What I needed was a good outlet – some kind of therapy that wouldn't send the psychologist screaming in the other direction.

As I settled down in the couch I decided I would get a notebook the following day. As cheesy as it sounded, I was going to start a diary.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

Sunlight poured into the room through the giant glass window that spanned a full side of the room, shedding orange light on the faded red couch I still lay in. My sleeve was lazily held against my nose so I would breathe in something other than dust while I slept. I slept only sparingly, however. For some reason my eyes would not stay shut, yet I felt my body needed the rest. My mind was beyond physical exhaustion, stimulated by emotion to the point where it had turned into a machine: set on one task and ready to carry it out without hesitation.

So this is what revenge felt like.

Something had changed in me the night before, converting me to this cold state of mind. There was no train of thought behind it; I simply had this feeling inside me that morphed into something else. It had felt like fear in the beginning, even though I felt safe, and then I felt nothing – no fear, no anger, no hurt. Only this vision in my head of killing that bastard.

If I felt nothing, then maybe it wasn't revenge – maybe it was something else entirely.

Someone shifted in their chair behind me, and I closed my eyes and listened to the quiet footfalls of boots headed down the stairs and fading away in the main entrance hall. I turned over and saw that Dean had gone, then sat up to observe the surroundings. Chris was fast asleep on the couch next to me, curled up tightly with a shirt placed over her nose and mouth in a manner similar to mine to counter the dust. Sam was on his back, jacket zipped to the collar, looking like the jolly green giant on a two-seater couch with his feet hanging off the edge. I could see the dust particles in the air with the sunlight shining through, and my nose already felt stuffy. I'd have to get outside today before it clogged up.

I attempted to get my hoodie off, which was a task in and of itself as the sweatshirt was over my jacket and constricted most attempts at movement. I finally peeled it off and stuffed it back in my duffel, then ran my fingers through my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. Adjusting my shirt, I tried to get a look at the cut on my collarbone, but could only feel it with my fingers. It must not have been that deep because there was a scab still forming. I relaxed in my seat and stared at the dead bugs that had fatally congregated around the lantern on the coffee table. It was a good ten minutes before I heard Dean coming back, and he entered as quietly as he left with another duffel thrown over his shoulder. He saw me and paused, then set the bag on the floor.

"Hey," he said gruffly.

"Hey," I returned.

He walked back to his seat on the chair, dragging the duffel in front of him and unzipping it. I watched as he fumbled through an array of weapons before finally pulling out a good, four-inch silver knife, then standing and handing the dull end to me. Glancing at him tentatively, I took it, observing the blade as I gripped it in my hand. It felt deadly and looked far more efficient at dealing damage than the iron one he had given me earlier.

"I'll show you how to use a gun," he muttered, not wanting to wake Sam and Chris. I met his eyes, realizing what this meant for him, and suddenly understood why he was against it in the first place. It was in his attitude after I encountered the shapeshifter, and after that experience I knew why he felt this way. He wasn't against showing us how to defend ourselves. He was against the fact that teaching us to defend ourselves would mean the same as teaching us to kill – teaching us to hunt what they hunted. It was a hard life – witnessing the deaths of the ones you couldn't save, protecting the ones close to you, and making sacrifices for people you'd barely met – and the more I knew about what being a hunter meant to Sam and Dean, the more I understood why they didn't want us dragged into it.

But it was too late to change that.

I nodded and averted my eyes to Chris, who was now sitting up and yawning. She saw us and gave a tired smile before eyeing the knife in my hand.

"Got any more of those?" she asked groggily, and I smiled.

* * *

"Here's the chamber," Dean explained, holding up an old .45 that looked like a colt. He was showing me how to load it, putting a few blanks in and then popping the chamber back in. "Just keep your finger out of the trigger guard when you don't plan on shooting it. Cock it–" He pulled the hammer down with his thumb. "Hold it firmly, use both hands if you have to; just keep your thumb away from the hammer if you don't wanna lose it. Keep your arm straight, feet shoulders'-width apart to stay balanced… and pull the trigger." He fired the blank, making me start in surprise, and he smiled a little. "We probably won't do much target practice in here. Someone might hear the shots, so just go through the steps."

He pulled the chamber out again and emptied it of the blanks, then handed it to me. I'd never held a real gun before, so it was a little exhilarating having the power of one in my hands. I went through the steps fairly quickly, having seen the basics of handling a gun quite a few times on TV – which can't really be called an actual lesson, but it looked the same. Shooting it, on the other hand – I always heard it was not as easy as it looked because the gun itself gives quite a repercussion after the trigger is pulled. Naturally, the shooting part was what made me nervous.

I cocked the pistol and got into the stance he showed me, pulling the trigger and hearing the click of the hammer. I expected that to be the moment where he would stop me and start correcting my posture, but he didn't do anything. Instead he just nodded, satisfied enough that I could at least go through the motions. I could see in his expression that he wasn't expecting me to actually shoot the gun anytime soon, so this would be good enough for him until we had the time and place to do a proper shooting lesson.

"You sure you've never shot a gun before?" He narrowed his eyes curiously.

"I took archery lessons, if that means anything," I said, and he shrugged. There was a dull thud as someone hit the floor, and we both turned to see Sam lying on his back with Chris' hands doing some funky thing with his wrist. Sam was giving her a crash course on disarming someone with a knife, which I would be eager to learn as well.

"Not bad," Sam chuckled, if not a little exasperated by the apparent 'flip' Chris just performed on him. She laughed and looked at me, wide eyed.

"Did you see that? Holy crap!" She seemed as flabbergasted as Sam. "He's like, twice my size, dude!" She grinned and struck a bad karate pose. "Heheh…"

"Yeah, that's the point," Sam huffed, reaching a hand up, and she grabbed it to help him stand.

"I'm hungry. You guys hungry?" she asked, waving her hands around martial arts-style. "I think I'll make a sandwich." And she went into the sitting room without waiting for anyone to answer. Sam had gone out to get some meager food supplies that would last us until the end of the week, but I hadn't been hungry all day.

"You ready for your lesson?" Sam smiled, still slightly out of breath. I couldn't help but grin, because if Chris could flip him over I was pretty confident I could do it as well, and he – amusingly – looked forward to it.

We were barely at it for five minutes before I started rolling my eyes at him for being so anal about my "sparring posture" when he wasn't really teaching to spar anyway.

"Sam, I took tang soo do when I was a kid, I know how to approach a fist fight," I finally sighed, lowering my arms lazily.

"Well, then you're out of practice." He crouched down into the posture he kept going on about.

"Yeah, but I know to stand–"

Suddenly my feet were swept out from under me and I hit the floor with a dull thud. Dean was half-chuckling, half-covering his mouth in surprise. We all knew it was uncalled for.

"Son of a bitch!" I groaned in pain, propping myself up on my elbows and glaring up at Sam. He smiled. "That doesn't count, you bastard." I started to stand. "And don't give me the 'but it counts out there' shit."

"Come on, don't be lazy about it," he coaxed, practically inviting me to fight back, but I wouldn't fall for that. I knew he was better than me, not to mention stronger and a lot heavier, as well as more experienced.

"I know I'm out of practice," I mumbled, straightening myself out. "Didn't see you slamming Chris to the ground," I added more clearly.

"You ever been in a real fight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Once," I answered begrudgingly, only half-proud of the one time. "When I was like… 9 years old."

"All right then, we have some work to do."

I noticed Dean was still smiling with his arms crossed on the sidelines, and Chris had disappeared somewhere upstairs with her sandwich.

"We'll start with disarming. Nine times out of ten the person you're up against is going to have a weapon, so follow my lead."

I made a face, but crouched anyway and imitated him as best I could. Less than ten minutes later, somewhere along the lines of an "up to speed" sparring match, my elbow connected with his face.

"Ah!" Sam reeled back and clutched his nose.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I gasped, half in amusement and half in genuine concern. He touched the bottom of his nose and brought back a fingertip of blood. Dean was laughing once again, and I was trying to hold mine in. It was Sam – I knew he wasn't bothered by a little nosebleed.

"I think l'm gonna take a break," he said, walking away with his head tilted back. "Dean, you can take over from here." He slapped his brother's shoulder nice and hard with his un-bloodied hand.

Dean uncrossed his arms and watched Sam walk away, then eyed me with amusement, making my smile come out now that Sam had gone.

"All right, let's teach you how to use that knife." He pulled out the silver blade and approached, and so we got cracking on hand to hand combat. He showed me how to hold the knife properly, the basics of teaching anyone to use anything, and once again he was satisfied that I could handle that much without any trouble. It appeared that something else was on his mind, though, but he looked in a good mood as opposed to last night so I was wary to ask him anything.

In truth I wasn't comfortable enough with him to inquire about his feelings, even though I knew his response would be something off-handed and calculated to avoid a solid response altogether. We had been in close proximity for two months, but that meant very little in terms of approaching a remotely close friend relationship with the brothers. They shared very little. We hadn't even known about Sam's girlfriend for a while after meeting them, or even about their dad. We still knew nothing about their dad.

"For now just trust your instinct, and you'll be fine," Dean said, referring to me both using a gun and the knife in an actual threatening situation. I nodded, and there was a pause as he studied me for a moment, then twisted his mouth into a grim half-smile and started to walk away.

I was surprised by his abrupt lesson, and even more so that he was leaving without much else to say. He wanted to approach me with something – I could feel it, but just as I could not approach him with a confidential matter, he lacked the confidence to approach me. I was fine with that barrier, however, and was ready for him to keep going without saying anything. At this moment in time the ability to have an intimate discussion with him felt unimportant, as I had higher priorities right now.

Suddenly he stopped, drawing my attention back to him. He slowly turned back around, his expression unreadable, and I felt that awkward barrier rise by a mile the moment we met eyes.

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Kali," he said sincerely, and I relaxed a little because it wasn't as personal a subject as I thought it would be. "I swore up and down that I just wanted you guys to stay safe, and – well –" He looked away for a moment. "You know what happened."

I didn't say anything, because it sounded like something he just needed to get out, and he didn't need some pointless two-word response from me. To give some closure, however, I simply nodded to acknowledge his apology. He didn't need an 'I forgive you,' because the way I saw it there was nothing to forgive. I didn't play the blame game, and I knew what happened was just unfortunate coincidence, and Chris had said this would come sooner or later.

He seemed relieved that an in-depth emotional conversation did not ensue from his apology, and was satisfied enough with my response to nod himself and slowly start to turn away again.

"Dean…" I called, before he disappeared and I missed the chance to talk to him alone again. "I want to be the one to kill him."

He stared hard at me before looking down, obviously pondering my words carefully. I thought he would object completely. In fact, I had expected that he would.

"Why?" he said simply, which took me by surprise, and actually forced me to think about it. It just seemed so obvious to me, why I wanted to kill him. He tried to take my life. Tried to do a lot of things, actually, and I was angry. No – anger wasn't the emotion I felt. I hadn't felt wrath: not at any time last night did I feel rage or the impulse to hurt someone. What I felt last night was raw fear, much like what I felt hanging in that cave, waiting for that creature to feast on me like it had on that other poor soul. I was truly helpless then – wounded and confused, tied up with no way of escape.

Last night I was not helpless, not completely. I was overwhelmed, but not completely powerless, and I could have gotten out of that situation if I had only known how. If I'd had the courage to do something besides run. Stabbing the shapeshifter in the heart was not an act of bravery. I'd thought I was doing it out of courage, because I didn't want to be afraid. I wanted to brush it aside and do what I had to do, but that was fear lashing out.

I just didn't like feeling so terrified.

"I don't want to be afraid," I finally answered, clenching my teeth and turning my eyes to the knife in my hand. "I don't want to be afraid. If I kill him, I won't be."

There was a long pause as I waited for his response, but what he said left me even more confused.

"Are you sure?"

I met his eyes again.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sure you're ready to kill someone – even if it isn't human? Are you sure you can do that?"

I stared and thought hard once again, opening my mouth to say "yes" but hesitating and closing it again. How could I know? I didn't know what taking a life really felt like. Could I do it and live with myself, even with the circumstances?

"'I think so' is not an answer," he said, and I felt his answer to my question and closed my eyes, knowing he was probably right. "I understand… but I don't think you're ready."

There was no place for argument in his tone, and suddenly my confidence in dealing death for the sake of my mental and emotional security turned to doubt. He took a step closer, and I paid close attention to what else he had to say.

"You have a clear conscience, Kali. Don't taint it unless you know you're prepared to live with it."

It ended at that. He gave me one last look of sympathy and walked away, for sure this time, leaving me to contemplate my own emotions and figure out how to sort myself out a different way. I needed some guidance, other than my own conscience. Maybe it was time to talk to Chris.

* * *

**Chris' POV**

I sat down with my legs dangling over the edge of the building and took a bite out of my sandwich, my arms resting on the metal scaffold railing about two feet from the ground.

"Hey," Sam said, coming up the stairs behind me. "Pretty close to the ledge, aren't you?"

I looked up and stared. "God, you look like Bloody Mary just got to you again. What'd she do this time, try to pick your nose?"

The question surprised him so much he let out a laugh. It brightened up his entire face – and I suddenly realized that I felt better when he was smiling. I took a bite out of my sandwich, hoping that maybe it would scare the butterflies out of my stomach. How'd they get there, anyway?

"So," he said, sitting down and smiling at me. "You're in a good mood."

I wasn't sure how to reply to this, so I turned my attention to the sandwich and shrugged.

He sighed and fiddled with his beer bottle before twisting it open. "Look, I'm sorry about last night."

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "_I'm_ sorry about last night. You have nothing to apologize for."

Sam raised his eyebrows, bottle halfway to his mouth. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed, finally looking at him. "I was…totally out of line. I shouldn't have said any of it."

"No," he leaned forward against the railing, "no, you were right. But mostly I'm sorry for making you apologize at all last night. You were right to be angry at us – or, at least, it was understandable. We do wait until something happens before we teach people to fight back. But that's just how it usually works out. People don't want to know about ghosts and poltergeists and demons. They want their lives to be normal."

"I know." I stared out over St. Louis. "I… I needed the apology, though. To make it, I mean. It's not all that often anyone's totally in the right about anything, so I've gotten used to making apologies at the same time I accept them. Just figure it's fair, you know? To admit you're human while asking someone to do the same for you? But you don't need to say sorry for last night. I made last night what it was, so _I'm_ sorry." I smiled wryly at him over my sandwich.

"I guess I'm sorry for the last two months, then." Sam lowered his eyes to his beer and took a swig.

He was thinking about Jessica again. I could see it in his face. I wanted to ask him what was bothering him so much. I wanted to ask him why his nightmares hadn't stopped. I wanted to ask him about that secret he was keeping from Dean. I wanted to ask –

I took another bite of my sandwich and focused on chewing.

"I should have told Jessica," he murmured finally.

I swallowed.

"I should have told her everything. I shouldn't have lied."

"There was nothing you could do," I tried. It sounded plausible. That's what people said in movies. Of course, the people in movies really meant it, and put their hand on the poor guy's shoulder or whatever, but… I don't know, this was weird! He was talking to me about his dead – fictional – girlfriend! I mean… How many times had I shown him I was completely heartless? Last night should have proved it for sure. I just hoped I could make it through this conversation without sticking my foot in my mouth. If I stayed with the standard lines, maybe I could do it…

"Yes, there was. I could have told her the truth."

I opened my mouth, closed it, and gave up. "Well… yeah." Romantic movies were for dummies anyway, right? This wasn't supposed to be any rom-com TV show in the first place. Horror, guts and gore – those were the themes here!

And besides, the less heart I had the fewer guts there'd be. Just…statistically speaking…

"What?"

"What do you want me to say, Sam? That you were supposed to build your entire relationship on lies and half-truths? That by knowing absolutely nothing about what your family does she was safe? Dude, Kali and I just proved that that's completely bogus without doing anything – _Jessica_ proved it without doing anything." Jessica proved it better than Kali, in my opinion. "Yes, you should have told her the truth, and yes, you should have told her about your life at home."

"She never would have believed me. She'd break up with me for lying."

"Sam. I see you with Dean. You can't ignore your family – they're too big a part of you." Now _that_ was definitely a soap opera thing to say, and I wasn't even trying. Maybe I was getting good at this! "Look. You shouldn't do that to yourself – never mind the girlfriend. Lying about your past and trying to cover it up is just bad. Psychologically bad. If you grew up doing what you do now, Dean must've saved your life a dozen times before you were ten. And I'm sure you've done the same for him. That kind of thing creates a bond, right? Saving someone's life is huge, both for the person being saved and the person doing the saving. So when you moved off to college and completely ignored Dean, it was more than just ignoring your brother. It was… I don't know, it was more."

Sam was silent for a moment. "So what you're saying is, Dean is more important than Jessica?"

I thought about this. "Ew. No, never mind. "

Sam snorted, amused by my 180° change in argument.

I grinned. "I didn't think I'd ever admit Dean was more important than anybody!"

This time he openly laughed – again. "You know, for someone who says I'm especially close to Dean, you're not very good at being nice about him."

"I said you have a special bond, not that you actually _like_ him," I grinned.

"Like you and Kali?" He was only smiling now, but it was good enough._ God, I love his smile._

I paused and tried to pull myself together. "Kali and I do like each other, though. I mean, I know I do. I sure hope she does… I mean, it's a pretty sucky friendship if we hang out together all the time and I'm the only one who wants to do it."

"What, you don't think Dean likes me?"

I stuttered, "Uh – Well, I'm sure he does… In a – weird, Dean way…"

Sam laughed some more.

"I mean, he sure likes making fun of you…" I waited for him to stop chuckling before admitting, "To be honest, I try not to get into the psychology of Dean… Sort of a scary place to be, in my opinion."

He twisted his mouth up in amusement. "I don't know, I think you pretty much have him figured out. I think it's his job in life to make mine a misery."

I laughed at his tone and raised my sandwich as a toast. "To older brothers."

"I'll drink to that," he grinned, and did so.

We sat in silence for a while, watching St. Louis do its thing at midday. I was surprised at how much traffic there was, but then again, this was a major city. There was an overpass about a mile away, and I was trying to count how many cars would pass a certain slow-moving truck when Sam asked suddenly,

"So how about Kali?"

"Huh?" _Four and a motorcycle._

"You've done your psychoanalyses on me and Dean. Now it's Kali's turn." He was smiling again.

"Oh. Well…Kali's Kali, I guess." I sighed. "Why do you want to talk about her? Just wondering," I added.

"Because after last night…Why? Don't you?" He gave that wide-eyed, soul-searching look I usually saw him using on victims and I didn't know if I wanted to gag in nausea or squeal in fangirlic joy.

I controlled both urges and went for the honesty approach. "No, you're right. Kali is worrying me. She's never acted all…cold like that before. Really, Sam, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I was in a 7-11 one minute, getting a call from you the next – and then I'm dropping everything and rushing off to find out what happened to my friend that would make you sound so…freaked out." I looked at him. "You sounded frigging scared, Sam. You were on a _phone_ and I could tell you were…"

"Anxious?" he suggested.

I gave him a look. "Just a little," I said sarcastically, but smiled anyway. "What happened to you and Dean?"

He told me. He told me everything, starting with the first inspection of Rebecca's house to the second killing – all the way down to the lair in the sewers. He even told me about his broken friendship with "Becky," as he called her, which explained why he was even talking to me in the first place. I was more than happy to listen to him unload, though. It felt much better than sitting on the sidelines wondering what was going on.

When he got to the part when the shapeshifter-Dean told him he was going after Kali, however, I dropped my sandwich. "Oh my god," I said, wide-eyed. "Oh my god, she almost got _raped_ and murdered? Jesus, no wonder she's acting the way she is."

"What? You condone this?"

"Well, no – not exactly… I'm just saying I get it. And you know me, I probably wouldn't even think twice before going off and doing something stupid by myself, regardless of what you or Dean would say." I shook my head at my lack of common sense. "Mostly I'm amazed she'd actually take the time to think it through, even if she still came to the wrong conclusion."

"The wrong conclusion being to go and kill it?" Sam sounded confused.

"No. To get revenge."

"Ah."

"God," I muttered, wiping crumbs off my pants and staring down to the ground below where my sandwich now, presumably, lay. "God, I had no idea." And if I hadn't left the room none of it would have happened. Of course, if Sam and Dean had been doing their job – but they'd been a little tied up (ha) right then. They _had_ been doing their job…Besides which, they'd also apologized, so I couldn't blame them anyway.

I could blame myself, however. I was the one always ranting about how this was a horror movie and something was going to get us if we weren't careful. Well, I wasn't careful and look what happened. I'd left Kali alone in the room, unable to defend herself against that freak. I felt like beating my head against the railing, but decided against it – it'd hurt, and Sam was watching. Besides that, it wouldn't do me any good. I'd just have to not be so stupid again.

"You all right?" he asked.

_Why does everyone always ask me that?_ I wondered. "Well," I began. "_I'm_ fine. It's Kali I get to worry about."

"You going to talk to her?"

"Of course. My friend almost gets raped and you don't think I want to ask her how she's feeling? God, raped and murdered…" I put my hands in my hair and leaned my forehead against the railing.

"Hey," Sam said, sounding worried. "It's all right." He put his hand on my back.

I straightened up instantly and stood up, twisting away from him. "Yeah, thanks, I'm fine," I babbled inanely. "I mean…" I sighed and backed away awkwardly. "I'm, uh… Thanks for the talk. It was very, uh, help…um…ful…" I fled down the stairs. I could feel him staring after me, bewildered, and, quite frankly, I didn't blame him. I was acting like a total nutcase – but that was his fault anyway. Besides, I had to talk to Kali.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. I had to talk to Kali.

* * *

**A/N: And that's how Chris deals with boys. Oh, dear. Anyway, we both worked unbelievably hard on this one - Kali had to figure out what the hell she was feeling and Chris had to scream some stuff at people. God, both conversations were just... ugly to write. Thanks, all of you, for reading, and thanks even more to the people who review because they're more awesome and they deserve it. Hope to keep you entertained, and until next time,  
Norangutan and Silver-Eyed-Kat**


	12. Skin

**Chapter 12 – Chris' POV**

I sat down with my notebook and tried desperately not to chew on my pen cap. I'd had my talk with Kali moments before and I was still reeling from it. It'd gone a little something like this:

Chris: Kali! I need to talk to you!

Kali: Chris! I need to talk to you!

Chris: Oh. Okay, then. You go first.

Kali: … No, that's all right. You can go.

Chris: You sure?

Kali: Yeah.

Chris: Well… Actually, no, I lied. You go first.

Kali: What?

Chris: Yeah, yeah, seriously. You should go.

Kali: No.

Chris: What? Why?

And then Sam had come down the stairs and said that we needed to keep fighting, and I said that we weren't fighting, we'd been debating, and he gave me this look and went to talk to Dean who was away eating a sandwich. Then Kali had laughed and said that they'd taken a break and that we'd start up later. Apparently Dean told Sam the same thing because Sam went and made a sandwich and I'd gotten the notebook I was staring at right at this moment.

I sighed, then wrote this all down. It was as good a start as any.

Kali sat down next to me, chewing. "What's that?" she asked.

"Notebook," I said distractedly. "Diary."

"A diary? What do you need a diary for?"

"It's not the diary as such. I need the therapy and I'm not going to tell anybody in a white coat about freaky-ass stuff like demons and shapeshish – shapesif – shape – that kind of shit."

Kali grinned. "Numb tongue?" she quoted from _Star_ _Trek_. "I can fix that."

I laughed. "Shut up. You say it."

She ignored me. "When'd you get it?"

"I asked Sam to buy one for me when he was out getting food stuff," I shrugged. "I'm just glad he didn't get me one of those obviously diary-looking ones – you know, covered in pink and with a little heart-shaped lock on the front?"

"Yeah," she laughed, admiring the deceptive simplicity of my three-subject spiral. "Wait, you actually told him that you were going to start a diary?"

"Well, yeah. 'S not as if he's gonna read it or anything."

She gave me a hard look. "You sure?"

I snorted. "Dude, Kali. If it was Dean, yeah, I'd expect it. But I think _Sam_ actually understands three-syllable words like 'privacy.'"

Kali tried to look shocked and hide her laugh. "Chris!"

A voice called across the floor. "Hey!"

My God, did the man miss nothing? He was on the other side of the frigging room! He'd been talking to his brother. How could he hear me? "Sorry, Dean," I said.

"Something you need to say to me?" He started walking over good-naturedly, still stuffing his second sandwich in his mouth.

"What makes you think we were talking about you?" Kali taunted.

"Aw, come on. You're always talking about me." He grinned and allowed us all a mesmerizing view of half-masticated Dean-food.

Kali and I glanced at each other. "True," she said slowly, "But that doesn't mean it's all good…"

"Nonononono, yes it does. I'm always saying good things about you, Dean; don't believe anything she says," I blurted quickly, grinning. Kali made a funny sound into her hand – sort of like she was trying to turn a laugh into a cough.

He glanced at us, scowling in good humor. "Yeah, whatever." He turned around and headed back toward his bag, licking his fingers. Then he picked up the gun.

"Whoa," I said, backing away. "I was kidding. Kid-ding."

"He's just going to teach you how to shoot, you moron." Kali rolled her eyes.

"Just me? What about you?" I asked.

"I don't know. I think I've had enough for today," she said, looking over her shoulder at Sam (who was getting some more tissues for his face) and smiling slightly.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You did that to his nose, didn't you?"

"Accident," she replied shortly.

I snorted. "Yeah, right. You go sit next to Sam. Apologize while you're at it."

"I did apologize. Try not to shoot Dean in the head while you're at it."

I tried to look innocent. "But he said this was shooting practice. Come on, you don't get targets much bigger than Dean's ego."

"Chris?"

"Yes, Kali?" I could see the smile she was trying to hide. I wasn't in trouble. Yet.

"Quit taking shots at Dean. He's not as much of a dick as you think he is."

"That's probably a good thing," I started, but she cut me off.

"Chris."

"Okay…" It suddenly occurred to me that Dean, with his supersonic hearing, was probably listening to everything we were saying – and he still had the gun in his hands. Kali moved out of the way and took a seat on the couch near Sam, watching intently as Dean and I got started.

He handed me the Colt. "Here."

I nearly dropped it. "Uh."

"What?"

"It's, uh," I mumbled. "Well, it's a… gun."

Dean froze, his expression held in a careful, albeit dangerous, calm. Then he leaned forward a little bit and asked, "Excuse me?"

For some reason I instinctively knew what he was thinking. And I agreed with him – after two months of begging, badgering and bitching, I was going to chicken out of this just because I didn't like holding a weapon? I took a deep breath and said more clearly, "It's a gun. It's – heavy."

He gave me a hard look, then took the Colt back and emptied the chamber into his hand. "That's the way it'll feel when it's full. This is how it feels when it's empty, which is how we're going to keep it."

"Oh good," I muttered sarcastically, trying to shrug this off. It was like the first time I got behind the wheel of a car. I knew I was going to do it someday, and I'd been trying to get used to the idea, but the only thing I could think of now was the power I had in my hands. With the car I was suddenly aware of the two tons of steel and rubber that could reach speeds of 200 mph, and, if mishandled, could crush metal and shatter bones and generally _kill_ people. Now, with the gun, I could think only of the fact that the thing in my hands was a weapon – designed with the express purpose of, well, killing people.

But I wasn't going to kill people. Dean was teaching me to defend myself. If worst came to worst, I wouldn't actually be killing any_one_ – just some_thing_. I set my jaw and took the gun. It was much lighter this time, and I didn't almost drop it. Dean ran me through the steps, showing me the different parts of the gun and how they worked, etc. He had me point and aim a few times, but that was it.

"Isn't the recoil on these things, like, huge?" I asked, handing the gun back. "So that w – if I do actually fire this, I'll probably hit the ceiling fan instead?"

Dean smiled a little. "No, I'll get some real shooting practice in later. Like I told Kali, the gunshots would draw unwanted attention."

"Oh. Right," I said. "Cool. That it?"

He paused. "No, that's not it. Look, I had this talk with Kali, and I really think–"

"Whoa," I said, taking a step back. "Talking? You? What've you been smoking –" I stopped, my mind racing ahead of my words. "Did Sam put you up to this?"

Dean scowled. "Fine, you don't wanna talk? Don't." He hunched over his duffel bag and pulled out something else.

"If this is about Kali," I started.

"It's not about Kali," he snapped, and held up another gun. "This is a sawed-off."

"Look, if Sam asked you to do this, he's not going to let go until you do. Just get it over with. You say what you have to say, I'll say something back, and then you can go to your brother with the firm knowledge that we had a contemplative, insightful discussion that was conducive to our mutual lack of communication and perhaps helped soothe our abrasive and overly-hostile relationship."

He stared at me, slowly lowering the gun.

"You can use those exact words, too."

"Really." He was… not amused. In fact, he was kind of annoyed. _Gosh, can't imagine why…_

"Just say it and we can get back to shooting things," I said.

Dean glared at me and sighed. "You're annoying, ungrateful… I don't know, whiney…"

"Anything else?" I asked politely.

"Hey, all I'm trying to do is protect you and get you home."

"Okay, see, that's the problem. I don't need – well, okay, yeah, I do need the protection, but it's gone a little overboard. What I don't need is the mind-numbing dependence. I have to ask you for money, for clothes, for a place to stay, everything. It's kind of embarrassing to be 22 and living off this random dude you barely know. It's like living with your mother, only less personal."

Dean smirked a little at the analogy.

"That's just how I see it. I'd love to see it from your point of view – juggling the job on one hand and two inter-dimensional, time-traveling, preppy college girls on the other can't be easy, but… I think your life would be way better if you quit trying to control mine."

"Nah. I don't think so." He put his hands in his pockets.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know; you just seem too… Flakey. You get into things and leave messes. You're like Sam when he was three."

I stared at him. "With the exception that I don't need pull-ups, hopefully."

Dean grinned. "Sam needed diapers for a long time."

I rolled my eyes. "So you're saying that you're not going to let me be independent because I remind you of a three year old?"

"Like I said – annoying, whiney and ungrateful."

"Dude!" I huffed. "What about Kali – does she remind you of a toddler?"

"Kali's smart. She can take care of herself."

"_Kali_ doesn't automatically contradict everything you say because _she_ doesn't hate your guts," I muttered in a sticky-sweet tone.

"Ah, see, _that_ – That's what makes you sound like a three year old."

I took a deep breath before I opened my mouth again. I wanted to scream in his face. "God, Dean. You say _I'm_ annoying, but, man, you _really_ take the cake."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean," I scowled, "that you don't listen to a word I say. That – that – being treated like I'm three is more annoying than actually dealing with someone who only acts like they're three."

"So you admit to acting like a toddler?" He grinned winningly.

"No, Dean," I sighed and put my head in my hands. "I admit to acting like a person whose overprotective mother won't let them outside when it gets dark. _I'm 22._ I can take care of myself. Please, Dean. This is absurd."

"Absurd."

"Yes. We're arguing about the same thing. You don't like me acting like I'm three – and I don't like being treated like I'm three. I can promise you I won't if you'd just give me a chance. Put yourself in my place for just – two seconds. What would you do if for the rest of your foreseeable life you were going to be dragged around by two people who don't even like you?"

"What are you talking about? Kali likes you. And Sam does, too."

_He does?_ "That's not the point. You'd hate it, wouldn't you? You'd go nuts."

"I'd do as I was told."

"You would not! I said, 'two people,' not, 'your father,' – and definitely not anyone in your family. You barely even listen to Sam. Look, what would you do if you had to do everything I said? Huh? _Forever_."

He snorted. "I wouldn't. You have stupid ideas."

"Exactly! The feeling's mutual, all right? I personally think your ideas are fucking retarded." I shrugged. "Apparently that's just me, but we'll ignore that right now. You get the gist of it, right?"

"Let me get this straight. You act like a three year old because I treat you like a three year old and _I'm_ the one who's 'fucking retarded?' That's not the way it works, Chris."

"Uh, no, that's the way _you_ work. I totally helped save your butt back there in Colorado. It was only after you figured out that I wanted to be a hunter that you started this insane mother hen act."

He was silent for a while, appearing to think about my words. Finally he asked, "'Mother hen?'"

"Would you prefer 'totalitarian dictator?' 'Fascist oppressor?' Nazi assho –'"

"All right, all right, I get it! Jeez…" He sighed. "Nazi?"

"Okay, scratch that. But you are an asshole." I tried imitating his grin, but he just looked at me. "Just quit treating me like I'm three, all right?"

He threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"Huh?"

"You actually want to ruin your life by running after werewolves and demons? You –"

"Dean, I have no life to ruin in the first place. What part of that don't you understand? I follow you around and live out of motel rooms. That's pathetic. If I don't do something I'll go insane. Better to die doing something worthwhile than to live like this."

He stared at me. "You honestly believe that hunting's going to make this 'worthwhile?'"

I raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile. "I'd bet my life on it."

There was a moment where I could feel him looking me over, measuring me up. I kept eye contact and suddenly realized that Kali was right – his eyes weren't blue. Then he opened his mouth and said, "And that's why I can't let you do this. Take it from me, Chris: this life isn't worth the shit it puts you through." He held up the sawed-off again. "Just pay attention and don't get yourself killed."

And that was it. A fifteen-minute conversation and I'd gotten nowhere. Well – maybe not "nowhere." That last look he'd given me, the measuring up one, had been calculating. He was taking me more seriously than he had before – which was a step in the direction I was aiming for. A small step, but a step nonetheless.

God, this was going to take a long time.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

I sighed with a lazy smile, watching Chris and Dean's argument from afar. It was easy to tell that Dean was getting the upper hand in the conversation, seeing as he had his hands in his pockets and Chris was pacing with her head in her hands. I wondered if this one would actually get anywhere.

Sam sat beside me, having finished whatever he was eating, and stared at the commotion with the same bemused expression.

"They fight like a married couple," I said, arms crossed.

"You think it's that bad? I thought they just hated each other," he put in, and I had to nod in absurd agreement. We watched them for a while more, amused. "How's your cut?" he asked finally.

"I dunno," I answered quickly, controlling the impulse to touch my collarbone. Another moment of hefty silence followed, and I felt another conversation about the night before coming on. Chris and I had attempted one earlier, but I was as willing to avoid another confrontation as I was to talk about one, and she seemed to be touching the whole thing with a ten-foot pole. The talk with Dean was far more productive but a million times worse in terms of awkwardness and topic. None of them knew exactly what happened behind that door from the moment I let that shapeshifter in to the moment it left, and I didn't want to tell them. Some things you just have to keep to yourself, for whatever reason. I could handle it once he was dead, and that's all that mattered. To change the subject, I added, "I feel like my brain is on fire, though. Does that mean it's infected?" I looked innocently up at him.

For a moment I think he believed me, but he simply smiled a little and avoided eye contact.

"So are you holding up okay?" he said.

"Yeah, I'm good."

He could tell that was the extent of the conversation, and fell back into silence. I smiled as I noticed Chris purposely being difficult by trying to aim and shoot a sawed-off behind her back like some Western and ignoring Dean as he attempted to explain that this was a Hollywood stunt that only beginners tried to pull. Sam looked at his watch and sighed a little.

"I guess I should head over to Becky's, see if she's okay," he said, and I looked his way and nodded, smiling a little in farewell. He stood and waved at Dean, letting him know he was leaving, and I relaxed back quietly while he left the building, observing nothing. I started to feel drowsy, not having slept much at all during the night, and kind of bored with nothing useful to do. There wasn't even a TV to keep me occupied. I needed music to take my mind away from the real world for a little while.

Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled my legs up and curled into the corner of the couch, putting the headphones in and putting my face in the crook of my arm to keep the dust away. I thought some Bad Company would do the trick. Even their upbeat songs had this mellow rhythm, good to relax to. Very quickly I dozed off to _Ready For Love_.

_I heard glass break and muffled scream from a woman._

"_Sshh," someone hissed, and the screaming stopped. I was in a house. It was night, and no lights were on. Suddenly the woman was in front of me, her mouth clamped shut by a man. She was bloody and tied to a chair. I'm not sure how, but I knew it was Becky, Sam's friend. The scene changed again and I was in a hallway. A shadow passed by in front of me, and once again I knew exactly who it was... _

"_Freeze! Drop the knife!"_

_Everything changed again. The room turned into a tunnel, with pipes going along the walls and ceiling, water dripping all over the place. Someone collapsed in front of me. It was Dean, shirtless and grunting, tearing his skin away._

My eyes shot open as the couch was disturbed next to me. I was still half in my dream, and the music in my ears had changed. I looked down at my iPod. It was _Hey Man, Nice Shot_ by Filter, and suddenly everything felt more like déjà vu than just a dream.

I turned my head to see that Dean had sat down next to me, and he pulled a brief half-smile before eyeing Chris approaching. He looked annoyed with her, as usual. He was tapping his own pistol on his thigh, the gun fitting naturally in his hand. My eyes were drawn to the ivory colored grip and sleek chrome exterior, a well cared for weapon. I stared at the barrel, imagining what a hefty, lethal pistol like that would feel like in my hands. What it would feel like letting loose a bullet, aimed at someone else. I looked down at my own lap and turned off the music, trying to get a grip on myself. That shapeshifter was everywhere in my head. I needed peace of mind, and it still terrified me that killing him was still the only solution I could come up with.

"So what now?" Chris interrupted my reverie. "We just gonna hang around in this dust haven and drive each other crazy?"

"When we know if Becky's okay we'll go from there," Dean answered, his voice flat with irritation (no surprise there).

I had my head rested on my right hand, and my heart started to race as something occurred to me. My eyes got slightly bigger and I covered my mouth, looking away from them in deep thought. I wondered if maybe I had just remembered something from the show. It was sort of a dream but it was still something. The trigger could have been the music, or just experiencing the shapeshifter's aggression first hand earlier, something similar to what Becky might have suffered in my place. _Or right now._

"You okay, Kali?" Chris interrupted my stream of thought again. My mind was in full operation, like adrenaline, and I looked straight at Dean.

"You sure the shapeshifter will just stay in hiding?" I asked intently, and he seemed a little taken aback by the abrupt question.

"It's our best bet," he eventually replied. "Why?"

"Nothing." I averted my eyes again, retracting back into my own thoughts. What if he was smarter than that? Sam and Dean said he turned the tables on them with ease, that he was always a step ahead of them. He was a serial killer, and like most serial killers was screwed up in the head and would do the unexpected. He was an unpredictable mastermind, in his own psychotic way, and didn't seem the type to stop while he was on a roll.

_Wait a second, Kali. _I was freaking out. For all I knew, it could be just a dream, and raising the alarm because of that seemed foolish and unnecessary. Sam was on his way over there to check on Becky. If anything was wrong he would call. Besides, I knew I was being paranoid anyway. _Who wouldn't be?_

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it was nothing. Just-" I furrowed my brow curiously and just curled back into myself. "Just nothing."

I could see him and Chris exchange glances, but the moment was short and neither of them wanted to talk.

"So really," Chris started again. "What are we gonna do? We've gone through knife, pistol, and sawed-off training, and I'm already feeling sore from that… wrestling lesson, or whatever you call it, so I'm not doing that for a while." Dean looked at her. "Or, at least, I'd whine about it if you tried to make me… You know, annoyingly and ungratefully."

Dean covered his face with his hand and took a deep breath. "All right, then," he said finally. I tried not to smile, because I could see she really was riding his nerves. "I'll show you how to take care of my guns."

"Ooh. That sounds important. You sure you're willing to trust us with that?" she grinned.

"Chris," I said warningly. She subsided, and Dean went to get his duffel bag. We spent the next few hours with bore brushes and cleaning solvents – which stink, by the way. Horribly. But it was enough to keep my mind occupied. Dean had said that the shapeshifter would lay low, and that's what I wanted to believe, too. I cleaned each gun slowly and carefully, making sure not to miss a single step. And the brothers had a lot of weapons.

After a long time, Chris sighed and put down the sawed-off she was holding. "Honestly, Kali. Are you absolutely sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "It's just the shapeshifter thing. I'll get over it."

Her lips formed a thin line, but she dropped it. "What time is it?"

"About five-thirty," Dean said, looking at his watch. "Damn it, Sam should be back by now."

"He's allowed to talk to a friend, isn't he?" she asked.

"Call him," I said quietly.

My tone must have been more urgent than I'd meant it to be, because Dean looked at me quickly and started to look concerned himself. "All right."

He took his phone and stood up, stepping a few feet away from us and putting it to his ear. After about ten seconds, nothing happened. His brow furrowed and he pressed a few more buttons on the phone, putting it to his ear again. Another ten seconds passed by when he clenched his jaw and canceled the call.

"No answer. From Sam's cellphone or Becky's house," he said, and then paused for thought. Chris and I looked at each other, knowing what that meant. "We're heading over there. Come on."

"We're coming with you?" I asked, astonished.

"If it's the shapeshifter I can't leave you alone again. He might come back as me or Sam." He sighed. "And, I guess if you're coming, you might as well have some way to defend yourselves. Here." He held two pistols out to us.

"Right on!" Chris said, already reaching her hand out and grinning at me. I sat there for a moment, then brought my thoughts together and reached for the gun Dean was offering. The case of silver bullets was next to me, so I took some, tucking the pistol in the back of my pants.

"How will we get there? Sam has the car," I pointed out.

"We'll just steal a car," Dean answered.

"Steal? Why not take the metro or something? You know, something that _isn't_ against the law?" Chris objected.

"If we make a mess of the house, the police will get a lead through public transport."

"And they won't from a stolen car?"

"We're gonna hide it afterwards."

He seemed dead set on just stealing a piece of crap car in downtown, because he kept on walking ahead. It wasn't long before we found a rusty, 1980s Volkswagen, not even locked. There wasn't even trash in it, so we wondered if anyone drove it anymore. It wasn't long before we were speeding down the highway, and when we reached the house Dean turned in his seat to look at us.

"Stay in the car," he ordered, and got out.

"Like hell," Chris said under her breath, and tried her door. It didn't open. She stared at the handle in disbelief. "Son of a bitch!"

I tried mine. As with Chris' door, it was locked shut – despite the fact that the latch indicated the door should be able to open. Dean glanced over his shoulder at us before opening the front door of the house and smirked. I glared at him, then looked over at Chris, who was pounding the butt of her Colt against the window and muttering, "Haven't had fucking _child_ locks on since I was fucking _three_ – _years_ – _old!_" The last sentence was punctuated with emphatic thumps on the glass. I raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked when she noticed me.

I shrugged and slid into the front seat, then climbed out the front door on the driver's side. Chris stared at me from the back. "I was just gonna do that," she called.

I smirked. "After you broke the window."

"Exactly," she said, clambering through the seats. "Just seeing how _you_ perform under pressure."

I gave her a look, then merely rolled my eyes and headed toward the door. Chris crept up behind me, dodged behind some bushes, then rolled out and sprinted to the door, pressing her side against it with her gun raised against her cheek, Charlie's Angels-style.

I walked up the stairs slowly and leaned against the other side of the doorframe.

Chris tapped her head, raised two fingers and pointed at the door a few times.

I sighed. "Chris, I don't speak SWAT. I don't think even _you_ know what you're saying. And stop humming your own damn theme song!"

She grinned. "Roger. Cover me; I'm going in."

Before I could react – stop her, grab her arm, anything – she had opened the door and stormed in, screaming, "Nobody move! I've got a gun and three hours of training! HAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Chris!" I stepped through the front door just in time to watch her barrel down the hallway and straight into Dean, who had his back to the door and his gun raised. I raced after her, stopping at the doorway when I saw that Chris had, somehow, in her mindless eagerness, accidentally knocked the gun from Dean's hands. He had ducked behind the couch and was searching for it desperately, muttering, "Son of a bitch!"

I stood absolutely motionless in the doorway, behind the couch and Dean and everybody, and took stock of the situation. Sam was flat on his back, bleeding from the nose and holding his throat. This was apparently the work of the shapeshifter, which was in Dean's shape again, and was in a fight-or-flight stance. He was watching Chris, who had regained her balance – gun still in her hands and aimed straight at his head. She circled around the couch, trying to get close to Sam while fending the shapeshifter off. She nudged Sam's shoulder with her foot and murmured, "Come on, come on… Get behind the couch…"

The shapeshifter tried to take advantage of her distraction and stepped closer.

"Ah-ah!" Chris' attention turned back to shapeshifter-Dean immediately and she cocked her gun. "I will…" She paused, thinking about her words. "I mean, I'll shoot _at_ you, but that doesn't mean I'll hit anything."

The monster smirked. "Honesty. I like it. You know I wouldn't teach you how to shoot a gun. Not really. What do you think I am? Stupid?"

Chris shrugged in admission, then looked down embarrassedly. Sam was behind the couch now, with his brother. She looked up quickly, just in time to see the shapeshifter take another step closer. "Dean? Shoot him?" I couldn't tell if she was asking Dean to do the shooting or if she was asking for his permission.

"What are you talking about, I am Dean!" The "other" Dean said in front of her, and for a moment she believed him and was about to turn her head, but caught herself at the last second and glared at him.

"Chris! Just do it!" I screamed.

Chris gave a satisfied half-smile and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

She tried a few more times, but the shapeshifter-Dean was making his move. As Chris' face turned from confusion to rage, she lowered her shoulder and charged straight into him. They collided over the coffee table and Chris was knocked flat on her back. The shapeshifter was over her in an instant, but she lifted her legs so that it couldn't straddle her and kicked out. It moved back and she scrambled up, still holding onto her Colt.

"You piece of shit, I can't believe you gave me an empty gun," she said, not taking her eyes off the shapeshifter. "You know, you really picked the wrong guy to turn into."

The shapeshifter laughed. "Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, baby? You know I only think of you as a three-year-old. That's why I _gave_ you an 'empty gun.' You're useless, you know that? Useless and stupid. Nothing you can do will make you worth anything. Think you're ever gonna change my mind?" He smirked as he shifted his weight threateningly.

Chris broke. She threw the unloaded gun straight at the shapeshifter's crotch, hitting him dead center. He fell to his knees, groaning. "Change those," she said darkly, and walked forward to pick up a broken coffee table leg.

I watched as she took another step forward and raised the short piece of wood to finish him off, but I knew these tactics. The shapeshifter was only acting hurt to draw her closer. It had tried that one with me in the motel room, laying on the floor behind the couch, holding its stomach and asking for my help. The world went silent as I recalled the memory, and without thinking much about it I took the pistol tucked in the back of my jeans and checked to see if it was loaded. It wasn't. No surprise there. I reached into my pocket for those silver bullets and started putting them in the barrel, looking up at the shapeshifter.

As if in slow motion, Chris raised the piece of wood, but suddenly doubled over as the shapeshifter lashed out and caught her in the stomach. In a series of fluid movements it stood up, kneed her in the face, and pushed her over. He was on her in a second, but by then Dean had given up looking for his gun (or nursing Sam, or alternating between the two) and was running around the couch, punching the shapeshifter in the face before it could get its hands around Chris' neck. The shapeshifter reeled back, stumbled over the broken coffee table, and turned toward me.

There he was, standing feet away, completely vulnerable at point blank range, surrounded with no escape. There was almost no thought process at all, only simple muscle memory as I put my thumb to the hammer, ready to pull it down. The gun was aimed at his chest, and he eyed it warily before staring me straight in the eyes. His knees were bent and arms were out, his whole body poised to run or dodge – no fight instinct here. The others were standing still, realizing that he had no place to go and waiting for me to make my move. It was a sweet feeling, having the upper hand in this moment. He smirked slightly, and my forefinger twitched against the trigger at the sight.

"I wouldn't give you a loaded gun, either, Kelly," he said lowly.

"No. You wouldn't." I pressed the hammer, smirking at him in return. "And it's Kali."

It took a lot more effort than I thought, pulling that trigger. I squeezed it, flinching at the backfire and the surprisingly loud bang. A dead silence followed – one that seemed to last forever, and when I opened my eyes to see what I had done, everyone was looking at the floor. There was the shapeshifter, holding a bullet wound in his gut. He was still alive, but fading away with every second. That same look of helplessness passed over his face, the same one he pulled when I stabbed him the night before, only this time it evoked nothing from me. Eventually he just bled out, going limp against the floor. He was dead.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and lowered the gun, taking my finger away from the trigger. _He was dead._ That fear just melted away, and I felt refreshed. At the same time, however, I felt this hole open up inside me. I had shot someone, killed him. Not on accident either, but with every intention of dealing death. It was a foreign and very uncomfortable feeling, and the gun suddenly felt too heavy to bear.

"I shot the right one, didn't I?" I asked, still slightly out of breath from the adrenaline rush. Chris smiled a little and stumbled over, putting her hand on my shoulder.

"I don't know," she panted finally. "You should shoot them both just to make sure."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "That's not funny."

"Yeah, you shot the right one," Dean said, glaring down at Chris. "Thanks."

"Of course he'd say that," she said to me, swaying a little. "You should still shoot him."

"Chris. I told you that wasn't funny."

"_I'd_ laugh," she grinned.

"Chris!" I looked at her, caught between anger and amusement. She and I both knew I wasn't firing any more shots anytime soon, but that didn't explain the huge, goofy grin on her face.

I held the gun out to Dean, who stared at it curiously before taking it. "You were right," I said, wiping the hand that held the gun on my pants. "I couldn't do it again. I just… couldn't."

He didn't say anything, only pursed his lips in understanding and left it at that, for which I was grateful.

"We should leave before the cops show up," Sam said, and I turned around, my body working ahead of my mind because my mind was still on what I had just done.

_Holy shit. Holy shit. Shit is holy, holy shit_, I thought to myself, still stiff with the adrenaline and inertly making my way toward the front door.

"Dude!" Chris said suddenly, and everyone turned to her. She hadn't moved, but instead was holding herself up by the couch and peering under the pool table curiously. "Anyone notice someone missing? Like, um… Becca, or whoever?"

"Becky?" Sam corrected automatically.

"Huh. Doesn't look like she's here, either," Chris said lightly, still grinning. Then she frowned. "Isn't that funny? They have, like, the same name…"

We all widened our eyes in realization, and Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"He probably hid her back underground. We have to go find her," Sam said hurriedly.

"Yup. They headed north two hours ago," Chris chuckled to me, sounding like Sid from _Ice Age_.

"Yeah, okay Sid," I had to say.

She giggled. "That's right, I'm Sid 'cause I'm an annoying sloth. Sam's Manny 'cause he's tall and has that stupid haircut, and Dean's Diego 'cause he's a buzzkill… I guess that makes you the baby because there's no one left…" She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Dean thinks _I'm_ the baby. But I'm not. 'm a sloth."

I raised my eyebrows. "Chris, how hard did that thing knee you in the head?"

"Really, really hard."

"Uh huh. Come on, Sid," I said, walking back over and trying not to look down at the shapeshifter's body. I draped her arm over my shoulders and helped walk her out of the house.

"This Supernatural thing's getting old," she grinned as Sam closed the door behind us. "You know what I could go for? Some global warming."

* * *

**Chris' POV**

I was in the back seat with an ice pack on my cheek when the car finally stopped.

"Now, both of you – and I mean it this time – _stay here_." Dean twisted around to face us and glared at me. "You especially."

I tried focusing on his face, failed, and instead opened my door.

Dean made a move to grab me, but Sam put his arm out. "Dean. Dean! Stop!"

I stared at him – or what I thought was him, based on the blurs of colors that looked most like Dean – and mumbled, "I was just checking to see if there was any child locks." I didn't close my door, though. I was debating with myself how much I wanted to get on Dean's nerves. Going down into the sewers was definitely the best bet at the moment, but I could tell I was in no condition to do anything for a few hours. I'd seen stars when that thing kneed me in the head.

"Chris, you should stay in the car," Sam said quietly.

I shrugged. "I know." I still made no move to close the door.

Kali sighed. "Just stay here, okay? You can say you're protecting me."

That really didn't help my mood. "Yeah, Kali, I think you totally need my protection. Especially with your loaded gun and all."

Sam sighed, too, and got out of the car. "Promise to stay here?" he asked.

I held up three fingers. "Scout's honor," I said sarcastically.

Dean slammed his door and caught up with his brother before the manhole. "I don't trust her," he whispered.

"What a surprise," I called. "I don't trust you either. Not after you gave me an _unloaded gun!_"

"Chris. Shut up." That was Kali, behind me.

"He could have gotten us killed," I hissed, turning back around.

"We wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place if you hadn't gone running in like some lunatic."

"It was the only way to run in there, Kali. Normal people just walk."

"Chris!" she said, exasperated.

"Kali!" I mimicked, equally annoyed. When I turned back to the manhole, Dean and Sam were gone. "Ugh."

There was silence in the car. Suddenly a thought struck me. "Kali, did you want to go down there with –"

"No."

"…Oh."

"Because I, unlike you, Chris, have a sense of a little something called 'self-preservation.' Something you lack but desperately, and I mean _desperately,_ need."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you're not careful Dean's gonna kill you."

"I'm careful," I protested.

"Oh yeah? What was that just then, when Sam had to _restrain his brother_ from throttling you?" She seemed annoyed. No, not even annoyed. It was worse than annoyed. It was more like PMSing.

I shrugged. "He had his seatbelt on."

"What?"

"His seatbelt. He couldn't jump up and grab me or anything. Besides, my door was open. It wasn't as if I had nowhere to go."

"It was _because_ your door was open that he was ready to break your neck!"

"I was honestly just checking for child locks. I didn't like them."

"You could have just asked!" she said disparagingly.

I stared at her. "All right. I'm sorry. Next time I think I'm in danger of being locked in a car with a psycho killer on the loose that may or may not have keys to said car that I _have no escape from_… I'll ask."

She stared at me blankly and slapped her knee in frustration. "If they dump us on the side of the road because of this selfish, absolutely _insane_ attitude of yours, I will never forgive you."

"They won't just dump us somewhere. Dean likes you, and Sam likes me… We'll keep going on this unending road trip together and you'll finally realize your feelings for each other… It'll be great. You'll love it."

"Stop saying that."

"Stop saying what?"

"The whole Dean-flirting-thing is getting old."

I hid a smirk. "That never gets old. The man looked like he was driving a double-edged knife into his chest after that shapeshifter attacked you. Made me want to slam his face into a wall just so's I didn't have to look at it anymore, but he did."

"Because he promised to keep us safe, the guilt was eating at him," she stubbornly pointed out. And that seemed to be the end of the conversation. She was really unwilling to go any further than that – I mean, with the discussion and with the relationship. I was impressed. But still…

"You would so not say the same thing if you had your memory back," I muttered, and I was sure she heard, but apparently she had the maturity (as well as the "self-preservation") I lacked.

I huffed and slid down in my seat.

"Wait, who said Sam likes you?" she suddenly asked, taking me by surprise.

"Oh, uh, Dean did. And he's not the comforting type, you know? Not to me, at least."

She nodded slightly in agreement. I looked down at the manhole in the sidewalk. What if they got lost down there? What if they never found her? What if those things lived down there like amoebas, splitting off each other and looking exactly alike? Wouldn't that be creepy?

I shook my head and tried to think of happier things. "So how'd it feel to shoot him?" I asked, smiling.

"He's dead. No more discussion about it," she said shortly, which made me frown. I knew it was my fault she was in such a bad mood, and now I was sorry for it. I bit my lip, then smiled.

"I liked that shapeshifter Dean. I liked tackling him. It was fun," I said lightly, watching her face. "We need more shapeshifters like that."

Kali froze. "No…" she said emphatically, shaking her head. "No, Chris. Just…no. I don't want to see any more Deans besides the original."

"The original sucks. I like the ones we can kill. It's very…therapeutic."

It was there. I could almost see it. The ghost of a smile on her face. Man, I was good.

"Yeah, man, forget the diary. Just give me a Dean-shaped punching bag and I can kiss those white coats goodbye," I continued, and she actually smirked.

"No, Chris, I don't think anything could cure your lunacy – not punching bags. Not white coats," she said, and we both turned our heads to see Sam coming out of the manhole followed quickly by Becky and Dean.

I grinned and scooted into the middle seat. "Here you go, Becky. I'm Chris and that's Kali. We're, uh, friends – or cousins. I can't really remember. Now imagine," I blithely went on as Sam and Dean slid into their respective seats in the front, "if that door had been closed when Becky got here. I mean, you'd've had to balance Becky on one shoulder, hold your keys in the other hand, and try to open the door with your foot. I mean, talk about impossible, especially after the day you've had. I mean, after all that stress and aggravation and beating people up, and now you'd have this _thing_ with the door. Aren't you just overwhelmed with gratitude that I kept it open _just_ for you?"

Dean gave a very meaningful look to Sam, who looked like he was trying (and failing) to hide a smile. Finally Dean rested his forehead against the steering wheel and groaned. Kali nudged me, hard, in the ribs. "Self-preservation," she hissed, rolling her eyes, but smiling. "Just shut up."

I grinned. "Okay."

* * *

It was an emotional farewell once we got Becky home and things had cooled down. At least, it was for Sam. Kali and I were hanging outside the car where Dean was, waiting to get back on the road. Becky waved in our direction, so I shrugged and waved back, earning a smile from both her and Sam. I was glad for him – he seemed much better for telling at least one of his friends what he really did for a living…or whatever it was. I mean, if there are no wages, it can't actually be called a "living…"

Anyways, Becky went back into the house and Sam came back to the car.

"So how about your friend Zack?" Dean asked.

"Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder. Found him dead in the living room a few days ago, murder weapon in his lair, Zack's clothes stained with her blood… Now they're thinking the surveillance tape was tampered with." He grinned. "Yeah, Becky says Zack'll be released soon."

I grinned with him. Dean, wanted by law? It was barely nine o'clock and this day already couldn't get any better. I slid into the back seat and buckled my seatbelt as Dean gunned the engine and turned on the radio. _All Right Now_ by Free burst from the stereo, almost on cue. My grin got even wider.

I lied._ Now_ this day couldn't get any better.

* * *

**A/N: Silver-Eyed-Kat – Yeah, for those of you who are actually following, loving, and reviewing this story, all I can say is we are soooooooooooooo sooooo so so sorry for the late update. Although, it's not a terrible update, because it's 18 pages long and the ending of an episode, so it should be a fulfilling update. Really, we don't have any valid excuses for taking so long, other than we were really tired of this episode and were procrastinating, and couldn't wait to get it done. REGARDLESS, we still poured all our creative juices into this chapter, because it is important. It's just that writing serious stuff all the time is hard on the brain, and we are VERY excited about writing the next episode, which will be Bugs. Mostly because it is just prime material for lots of humor, and no serious stuff. We're getting down to the good stuff guys, so once again, bear with us. Before we get to the Home episode we're going to plug an episode of our own in there, and we have come up with some pretty hilarious ideas. Anyways, we would very much appreciate reviews. I'm getting tired of asking, so… yeah. It would very much be appreciated. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, so until next time! Peace!**

**Norangutan – um, I can think of a good reason for why we haven't updated. CUZ WE BOTH MOVED. Remember that, S-E-Kat? At all? You know, all the boxes and the boxes and the more boxes? And then the truck, and the plane, and the house, and the ENTIRE OCEAN IN BETWEEN, and then the unpacking of the boxes, boxes, and more boxes? It took a long time. Yeah. No chappie cuz we friggin MOVED. XD That's my excuse. **


	13. Oklahoma

**Chapter 13 – Chris' POV**

I had finally gotten into a comfortable position, my diary was in my lap, pen poised and ready to write anything, and all I could think of was, _I'm in the damn car again._

Writing is so much harder when you actually take the time to try and pin down all the thoughts that have been going through your mind for the last few weeks. Once you sit down and start, every brilliant thing that you were just about to say scatters to the four winds, and all you're left with is some pointless one-liner that repeats over and over in your head like a broken record.

It's really unfair when much-needed therapy gets this irritating.

I should just start with the reason why I needed the therapy so badly. It started with the shapeshifter… or thereabouts. Actually, it probably started with stupid Dean making his stupid rules and stupidly enforcing them on (stupid) me. If he hadn't, I definitely wouldn't have been so eager to run down that hallway and accidentally knock his gun from his hands.

I can't begin to explain how embarrassed that makes me feel. I know I'd like to blame the whole thing on Dean, but the fact is I can't. I made the choice to go running down that hallway. I was the one who'd been so gung-ho about the fact that I had a gun that I hadn't even checked the chamber (unlike Kali). I was the one who'd messed up. I couldn't accept that Dean was right and I wasn't ready for a hunter's life, but at the moment I kept wondering if maybe he had a point. But that just made me hate myself more.

Truth be told, though, I never have been very good at self-hatred, so I think I was able to repress my inner angst for most of the weeks following the shapeshifter…episode, for lack of a better word. But after last night, I'm not sure I wanted to keep lying to myself that I was fine. I knew I wasn't, and now that I was sure of that, I just needed to figure out when the "not fine" feelings started showing up. And apparently they'd been showing up pretty far back. I figured I could start the diary there and work my way up. I hadn't written in it since the day after the shapeshifter attack.

After we'd left Missouri, we'd kept on the road until Sam and Dean had found a job. It was at a school, Eastern Iowa University or something. Small community college, small town.

"Perfect!" I'd said. "It's like, my home turf! College in the middle of nowhere? That's me!"

"No." I think Dean'd kill himself if he said something original to me for once. So while he and Sam checked themselves in at the victim's old frat house, Kali and I somehow got ourselves into the crappy old motel down the street.

I know, right? They get the free beer, decent meals, good beds and clean bathrooms, and we get another motel. I really don't see how I was supposed to be happy with that.

Besides the fact that they didn't throw us out on the streets, I mean. Straight after the shapeshifter fiasco. Kali was right, that would have been totally understandable. From their point of view.

Just saying.

Anyway, I bitched at Dean a little, then bitched at Kali when he'd gone. When she told me to shut up so that she could sleep, I came up with a scheme of my own. I'd go over, find the victim's girlfriend, get what I could out of her and solve this mystery myself. I'd be so awesome Dean would _have_ to forgive me and teach me how to hunt.

Yes, genius plan, I know. Shut up. But how was I supposed to know that the little – um, that the girl was the owner of the only piece of silver that could both control and get rid of the damn ghost? And that she'd use it to kill her roommate the exact night I showed up?

That's right. I went to Theta Sorority House looking for a place to stay one evening (picked completely based on the fact that Kali had gone to sleep early) and talked to Lori Sorenson – who struck me as kind of a ditzy nutjob from the get-go, actually, because she broke down as soon as I started talking to her and we had to find a room to cry about her dead boyfriend, her overprotective father, and how screwed up she was feeling.

Don't get me wrong, parents can be really annoying, but some serial killer had just murdered her boyfriend and strung him up over his own car. Isn't that kind of a good reason for fathers to be overprotective? And all right, so her significant other was dead, too. I knew from Sam that that wasn't easy. But they weren't even that close – she said so. That was somewhere around the time she admitted that she felt guilty for already having a crush on this new guy in town, but added that she and Rich were only on their first date when he'd been killed, so that made it all right, didn't it?

Seriously. We were total strangers and she was already unloading so much shit on me it was scary. I mean, didn't she have real friends to talk to?

The answer to that question came the next morning when I awoke to Lori screaming bloody murder. Usually that's just a cliché, but in this case I mean it literally. Taylor was…

Well, she was dead. And bloody. At least, the floor really was. Noticeably so. You'd think after all that blood had soaked into the rug not much would be left for the rest of her body and the bed and the sheets and the freaking wall, but somehow she managed it. It wasn't a pretty sight. Definitely not how I'd like to start my day, if you know what I mean. Of course, if I'd eaten breakfast before seeing it, I could easily have added my own contribution to the mess that was already there. But I didn't. Instead, I panicked because someone had already called the police and I didn't want to be found and questioned. I ran back into the room I'd slept in, got dressed, and was almost to the front door when the first cop cars showed up.

That's when I knew I was in trouble.

I hid in the linen closet (because that's totally what you do when the cops come looking for someone to pin something on), and that's where Sam and Dean found me. Dean and I had this furious conversation about what the hell I was doing there – Sam was more amused than annoyed, at least until I told them I'd stayed the night and left Kali alone again. Then, to prove to everyone that she was all right, I called her on her cell, and there was this moment in which both brothers whispered furiously while I held the phone to my ear and listened to Kali screech at me from the motel room. For some reason I found this scene slightly amusing, and I didn't blow up at them for being… well, completely reasonable. Instead I told them all that I was merely bored out of my mind and if they didn't give me something constructive to do I'd continue to pull stunts like this and someday get myself killed. I still have no idea how I convinced them to shut up (especially after that last speech), but I did – which I consider nothing less than awesome mad skills on my part.

Eventually we left the closet to check out the scene of the crime. Dean, to his credit, was impressed that I barely blanched at the sight of so much blood (I didn't tell him I'd gotten a good enough look at the room before they'd come. I don't think they let me get that far in my explanation), and said as much when he thought I was out of earshot while heading back to the car. I thought that was quite nice of him.

What wasn't so nice was that he insisted on calling Lori "Sammy's little girlfriend" on the way home. That really didn't make me feel comfortable. To be absolutely honest, it made me feel like I had just emptied my stomach again – only surgically. With a spoon. And then I felt like I was about to vomit for the _second_time that day, which I don't think should be allowed when you already feel like you don't have a stomach to get sick with. But whatever. It's what I felt and it was shitty. I recognized the emotions for what they were, too, because then I wanted to pound my head against the window for being such an idiot. If Sam wanted to hook up with any of the girls we met on these hunts, who was I to be a cockblocker?

Exactly. Nobody.

Which didn't help at all, really, but it put things into perspective and I was able to go on with my day without, I don't know, trying a more direct form of suicide than going after a ghost alone with no clue as to what I was doing.

I sat back in the car and sighed, looking over at Kali. She was staring out the window, obviously not reading what I had written down. This was probably a good thing, since I wasn't all too sure how she would take it. Exasperation would definitely be in the mix, but I sometimes couldn't tell if that was because she took me completely seriously or because she knew I was only half-joking.

I liked to delude myself that Sam knew I was half-joking.

My feelings for Sam were a big part of this therapy session. I'd known when I first met him that I had a crush on him – but that was only in the same way I had a crush on Cyclops from _X-Men_ or Iceman from _Top Gun_. They were fictional. I could think what I liked of them, good or bad: what was it going to do, hurt their feelings? But _my_ feelings had carried straight on from the real world into this world. In fact, they'd developed so much that now they were something I really didn't want to get into. It was just getting harder and harder to pretend that every minute Sam and I spent together wasn't totally agonizing.

The moment I knew I _really_had to do something about all the endorphins and oxytocin my brain thought it was necessary to release while I was around him was a little after the Theta Sorority incident. Sam and Dean were pretty sure as to what was causing the killings and had decided that I was right about the "constructive work to keep her out of trouble" approach, so they'd enlisted my help.

Okay, but only to a certain extent. Dean had taken Kali down to the graveyard to show her how to salt and burn a body (kind of self-explanatory in my opinion, but he didn't ask for it so I gave it loud and clear). Since neither of us (me or Dean) wanted to spend time with the other after that, Sam had volunteered to take me with him to watch over Lori's house. Lori probably knew by now that I wasn't from Theta Sorority, so I stayed back and hid behind some bushes. (All right, and I didn't want to have to deal with "Sammy's little girlfriend," either. So sue me. Besides, things would probably have turned out differently if I'd stayed there and protected—I mean, just stayed with Sam.) I watched Lori fight with her dad, storm out of the house, sit next to Sam, and then suddenly kiss him for no reason whatsoever. That was the moment when I knew something was very, _very_ wrong with my head – or my heart. Pick a body part, it doesn't really matter. Something froze there, and I couldn't move or breathe or do anything for about an entire minute.

Then Lori tried to murder her father.

And I'm going to interrupt the narrative again just to make a point, all right? Here it is: If I _ever_ get so lucky to kiss a guy like Sam, I am pretty damn sure I'm not going to be in any kind of homicidal mood afterwards. Whatever happened to weak-kneed, starry-eyed, virginal bliss? What the hell is wrong with Lori that she kisses Sam – Sam _Winchester_, for god's sake! – and is so not immediately taken over by sheer ecstasy that she actually has the capacity to hate her father enough to _kill him?_ Something was seriously off about this girl despite the fact that she liked Sam – and I don't really think I have to say that that counts for a _lot_ in my book.

And by the way, no, I'm _not_ saying that I would be taken over by sheer ecstasy if I ever kissed Sam. I'm just saying I can't understand why Lori wasn't.

Right. So, back to story…

Lori, Sam and I freaked out and chased after Reverend Sorenson and saved his life. Then I had to bugger off because I'd been at the scene of two crimes now with no explanation as to who I was or what I was doing. So I called Kali and Dean and told them what happened and what hospital Lori thought she, Sam and her father would be going to. Then I hiked the five miles back to the motel, which gave me more than enough time to think about what I'd seen and how I was feeling.

That was when I'd decided to write in this diary again. I would have done it sooner, but I was exhausted by the time I'd gotten back to the room, and the next day Sam and Dean had us going through old city and church records looking for some dude's silver hook hand. Then, that night, they brought us to the church to melt all the silver down – which started out uneventfully enough, but soon livened up once we found Lori. She'd stopped being homicidal and had instead gone suicidal. Like I said, nutjob. Anyway, we melted the silver, saved her life and killed the Hookman.

Man, that sounds so cool.

That was last night. Sam and Dean had stayed around to help Lori get through the police interrogation, but Kali and I had to bugger off (again). Somewhere around five this morning we'd all gotten in the car and Dean drove us off into the sunrise.

And that was where I was now. In the car, trying to figure out why I was so… screwed up. Everything that had happened was wrapped up into this huge tangle of emotions that was absolute murder trying to sort out – everything except one. When Dean suggested before we'd left that we could stay in town, obviously referring to Lori, Sam had shaken his head. I mean, with _conviction_.

That had definitely made me feel better.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

All right, the whole Hookman ordeal was about as horrible as the shapeshifter one. Not only had Chris decided to disappear from the motel in the middle of the night for some solo-moonlighting-Scooby Doo time, but she'd also convinced Dean that it was actually a good idea to keep us occupied (which was _exactly_ what I wanted to do with _my_ free time). Problem was, the brothers were still paranoid about leaving me alone, and Dean couldn't get along with Chris if the world was coming to an end, _and_ I was completely baffled at the brother's decision to actually include us in the investigation. Ultimately it resulted in me trailing very closely behind Dean in a centuries-old graveyard in the middle of the night with a shovel, some gasoline, and a canister of salt. Dean explained – multiple times, since I couldn't stop asking – that we were looking for an unmarked grave for a _priest_, of all things, so we could desecrate his decomposing body in the worst way possible whilst simultaneously keeping an eye out for a ghost with a bloody hook on his hand that could rip us both new ones for… well… screwing with his turf – all while Sam and Chris went _babysitting_.

Yeah, Dean was digging that hole on his own. I would man the flashlight.

I was royally pissed at Chris for ditching me in the middle of the night and for giving Dean bright ideas about showing me the dirty… _very_ dirty part of his "job," when I was obviously the one who didn't need any more convincing to NOT be involved in this hunter's life. If he were really trying to prove a point he should have brought _her_ to dig up corpses. Maybe he really had given up on convincing her of anything. Regardless, I had been given no choice, and it was all her fault.

So here we were, a few weeks later, working on a case in Oklahoma – which was a little bit exciting because I had lived here once. Apparently this construction worker had fallen down a hole and come back up with a melted brain (these jobs were getting gorier every time). Of course Sam and Dean (and Chris, amazingly) decided it was worth looking into. I wouldn't argue with that. I mean, the guy's brain was mush. To me that's pretty weird, and the mad cow disease theory sounded pretty stupid anyways. All it took was a short interview with one of the guy's workmates – during which Chris and I stayed in the car so we didn't overwork the brother's "nephew" alibi – and we'd ended up in some prime-time neighborhood that was "Soon To Be Opened To The Public!!"

Oh yes, it got better. To my own joyous relief, we were standing next to another hole.

"So what? Some sort of creature chewing on his brain?" Dean inquired, shining a flashlight down the hole while I stood safely behind the yellow tape. Chris was standing right there with the brothers, but I had no feelings towards being the excluded one. By all means, let them exclude me from the dark, deep, scary hole where a guy had his brain eaten.

"Nah, there'd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside," Sam answered, leaning down to get a better look and, truthfully, making me very nervous. It was a damn sinkhole, and they were standing on the edge of it. Chris didn't help either, especially since she saw my face and mimed falling in backwards before getting back to business and crouching down beside the brothers. Sam rolled his eyes at her.

"Huh," Dean huffed finally, unimpressed. "Well, looks like there's only room for one."

I wasn't sure if I had heard him right, but it sounded as if he was implying that someone was going to go IN the hole. He got back up and went under the tape, looked around, and came back with some green tubing.

"Dean, we have no idea what's down there," Sam argued, and I had to agree. It was a stupid idea.

"You're too heavy anyway, Sammy," his brother chuckled. "So, Kali," he drawled, looking down at his hands as he tested the flexibility of the tube.

"If you even ask, I will kick you in the balls," I said, not amused. I was sure that by now they all very much understood that I had no desire to be the damsel in distress again. I saw him smirk a little and couldn't tell if he winked at me because the sunlight was so intense.

"We're not sending one of them down there, either," Sam protested.

"How about you, Chris?" Dean asked, ignoring his brother.

She laughed, then noticed his face and the fact that everyone was watching her silently. "You can't be serious."

"You're the one who wanted training, sugar."

She tried smiling. "I was thinking more of a grading system. Pass/fail doesn't really work for me."

I laughed at the sudden turn of events. "Just admit you're scared, Chris."

The façade dropped. "Damn straight I'm scared. Someone got himself killed down there – you think I want to follow in his footsteps?"

"She's right, Dean," Sam said. "Besides, she doesn't even know what she's looking for."

"Neither do we, Sammy," Dean grinned. "That's why we're going down there in the first place."

"That is some fucked up reasoning," I muttered to Chris, who nodded in agreement.

"Dean, no. You're going to get her killed because she doesn't know what to do if something bad happens," Sam huffed.

Chris opened her mouth to agree, thought about his words, then shut it angrily and gave a curt nod.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's right, Dean," I said slowly. "Chris has no idea what she's supposed to do down there. We can't let her go."

She glared at me. "Shut up, Kali. We get it."

"I mean, what if she panics? She'll start screaming, draw attention… It'd be impossible trying to explain that to the police, don't you think?"

"Kali, I said _shut up._"

Dean looked at her, then at me, light dawning in his eyes. Suddenly he smirked. "All right, I'll go. Wouldn't want Chris to mess everything up."

Even I knew that was a low blow, but Chris' face was worth it.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," Dean said, hiding his smile by looking down at the tubes around his waist. "You'd screw it all to hell. You should let the professionals do it."

Chris stepped forward and snatched it from his hands. "I am _not_," she muttered, tying the tube into intricate (although probably useless) knots around her waist, "going to mess everything _up_."

Dean grinned. "Whatever. Klutz."

She glared at him, then stepped to the edge of the sinkhole and turned around.

I grinned at her. "Falling backwards doesn't sound so funny anymore, does it?"

"Shut up. You're a bitch. Keep the rope away from Dean," she growled, and thrust the coil into my hands. She looked behind her before stepping back and said, plaintively, "Please don't kill me."

I grinned, and let some tubing slide through my hands as she descended.

After a few moments I called, "How far is the bottom?"

"Four, maybe five feet," her voice echoed up. "Why?"

"No reason," I said, smirking, and loosened my grip on the tube. It slid through my hands quickly, almost giving me rope burn. There was a loud gasp from the hole and I chuckled, tightening my grip again.

"Kali!"

"Yes, Chris?" I replied sweetly.

"I told you to keep the rope away from Dean!"

"I'm right here, sweetheart," Dean said, poking his head over the opposite side of the hole.

There was silence as Chris digested this. I thought I'd laugh so hard I'd drop her anyway. Finally, I felt a few tugs on the rope.

"What's that mean?" I called. "Do you want to come up or keep going?" I'd stopped feeding her the tube after I'd "dropped" her.

"It means if you don't give me more rope I'll untie the damn thing and let whatever's down here eat my brains out and you'll be fucking sorry."

"Chris, if anything was down there it'd have eaten your brain by now and is probably waiting for the main course," I called, grinning.

There was another pause. "Shut up!"

I cracked up again. Sam sighed and grabbed the coils from my hands and started letting Chris down some more. After a while he started pulling her back up, which generally takes a little more effort, so I got behind him and pulled the extra rope away from his feet so he wouldn't get himself tangled up in it when he stepped back.

Chris' head appeared at the edge of the hole and Dean offered her his hand. She glanced at it with a look of deep disdain, then deposited a handful of stuff into his palm before climbing out, rolling away from him.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asked, dropping most of the small, round objects.

I stepped closer and realized they were beetles. Small, black, ordinary-looking beetles.

"Wow. Beetles. In a hole in ground. That's very shocking," I scoffed as Sam took one of the critters to examine himself.

"Hey, beetles can eat meat," Chris defended, trying to brush the dirt off her knees. "And that's all I found, anyway."

"So some beetles ate his brain," I said skeptically.

"How many did you find?" Dean interrupted.

"Nine, maybe ten."

"That's hardly enough to chew the guy's brain."

"Yeah, well, maybe there were more," she defended again.

"Come on. Let's get out of here before we draw any attention," Sam insisted, and once again we were in the car. It didn't take long for the investigation to go further, and believe it or not Dean's stomach led the way. Before long we were standing on the doorstep of somebody's house that just happened to have a barbeque in the back. The door opened and a man in a brown suit smiled in greeting.

"This the barbeque?" Dean inquired.

"Absolutely. Not the best weather but –" He paused and simply held his hand out, and Dean shook it. "I'm Larry Pike, the developer here."

He shook the brother's hands, but we were behind them so he didn't really push past to introduce himself to us.

"Sam and Dean."

"So you're interested in Oasis Planes?" he asked.

"Yessir."

"Well let me just say: we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or…" I saw him glance between me and Chris. "Sexual orientation."

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and lean over to Chris, who had a similar look of awkward confusion.

"Was he emphasizing the last part?" I whispered.

"Two guys, two girls, how could he get it wrong?" she whispered back.

"Uh, we're brothers," Dean said suddenly, probably picking up on the same thing. He then turned and looked at me pointedly, and the second he put his arm over my shoulders I knew that my alibi had changed. "This is my-"

"Girlfriend," I said quickly, taking some control before he forced a slightly more serious role for me to carry out. "Kali." I introduced myself, trying to look convincing by putting my arm around his waist and smiling sweetly, which was difficult when his smirk was unmistakably taunting to my eyes. Larry shook my hand and his eyes jumped to Chris.

I have to say, I was reeling with laughter on the inside when I saw the awkward look Sam and Chris exchanged, especially when Sam lifted his arm so that Chris could sidle under into the same stance Dean and I were in. Chris glanced at him, then at his arm, smiled the fakest smile in the world and said, "No room… _dear_. We'd push Dean and Kali off the front porch and who would want that?"

Sam's face froze, but his blood didn't. He blushed. Dean cleared his throat and I was still stifling that laugh.

She poked her head between Sam and Dean's shoulders. "I'm Chris. I'd shake your hand except I'm all the way back here."

"Oh, that's no problem," Dean smiled. "We'll just move back some. You two _lovebirds_ get the front." He took a few steps back to let her through. I pushed her shoulder as we went by, receiving a death glare for my support.

Sam put his arm around her waist and she stared at it with a slightly sick expression before turning back to Larry and sticking out her hand. "Still getting used to the idea," she choked. "Moving in – not the girlfriend thing, of course."

Larry grabbed the offered hand and smiled. "Oh, aspiring couples are always welcome, too. Come on in."

He turned around for us to follow, and I met eyes with Dean to glare and show how much I didn't appreciate the unexpected situation. Chris had bolted into the house after Larry had left the doorway, not even sparing a glance back at Sam. Dean raised an eyebrow at her, then looked back down at me.

"After you, sweetie," he teased.

"Don't call me sweetie," I snapped quietly, briskly crossing the threshold and following Chris.

"So, Larry," I heard Chris say. "You're the developer here? So whose house is this?" She paused. "It's, uh, nice."

"Eighteen months ago I was walking this valley with just my survey team and there was nothing here but scrub, brush and squirrels. And you know what? We built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house," Larry answered.

"Wow," I said, but I could tell he was mostly talking to Chris – the one who he saw as "in need of encouragement."

He turned around. "We're the first family in Oasis Plains. This is my wife, Joanie." He put his arm around her and introduced us as we lined up and stuck out our hands. "This is Kali and Chris, Sam, and Dean. Tell them how much you love the place, honey," he added in an undertone to his wife, "And lie, if you have to, because I need to sell some houses." He excused himself and went to join another group.

I grinned appreciatively and so did Chris. It was a pathetic joke, but he pulled it off well. He must have had a lot of practice for that.

"Don't let the salesman routine scare you; this really is a nice place to live," Joanie said once he was out of earshot. "Larry's not playing it up at all. So how long have you been together?"

"A few years," Sam said quickly, putting his arm around Chris again.

"But it's all gone by so fast it feels like only a day," she added. Sam took his arm off her. She put on a smile.

Joanie smiled with her and looked expectantly at Dean and me. My mouth opened to reply to the same question, but Dean quickly beat me to it, pulling me to his side with a little more force than necessary.

"Two months," he announced, smiling, and her eyebrows arched as much as mine.

"Wow. Already living together?" she inquired.

"What can I say? Some things are just meant to be, right sweetheart?" He looked down at me, and once again I tried to pull that serene smile, which was difficult as I heard Chris trying not to snicker.

"He likes to think that," I told Joanie, a polite joke to her but a subtle pinch to Dean, and that smirk he held just said he was enjoying every second.

She chuckled and continued, "Well, this is a great place for aspiring couples."

"Hi, I'm Linda Bloom, Head of Sales." A woman with a very tight bun appeared out of nowhere. I raised my eyebrows and exchanged glances with Chris to confirm the impression: this woman was scary-aggressive.

"And Linda was second to move in," Joanie continued without missing a beat. The woman was good. "Linda, this is Sam and Chris, and Dean and Kali. They're interested in becoming homeowners." We offered our hands (I was going to have to get some hand sanitizer or something after this many exchanges), with Sam giving a small explanatory "Sam" as she shook his. I was glad that Joanie had made it clear through our introductions that Dean and I were together and Sam and Chris were together. Linda was sure to pick up on it. Not that the first time wasn't funny, of course, but assuming Sam and Dean were gay for a second time would be a little awkward.

"Sam and Chris?" Linda said, looking at Sam and Dean. "Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or… sexual orientation."

I snorted. Chris gave the biggest real smile I'd seen today and said, "Well, we're sure happy to hear that, aren't we, boys?" She patted Dean on the shoulder as she went by. "I'm going to get a burger. Come on, Kali."

Burgers sounded good. I followed her and left Sam and Dean in the clutches of Linda, Head of Sales, trying not to laugh.

"They don't look gay, do they?" Chris asked, her mouth already full.

"Maybe not to you," I answered, glancing back at Sam. Dean wasn't there, but I saw him slipping into the house after Larry, probably to get some more information out of him.

"Ugh. That's so weird."

"But funny," I grinned.

She laughed. "Yeah. Definitely." She swallowed. "My god, these are _amazing_. What'd they put in here? Crack?"

I stared at her. "What are you talking about?" I took a bite. Freshly grilled burger, crunchy lettuce, juicy tomatoes… I could see what she meant instantly.

"It's nothing like those god-awful fried diner meals we've been having for the last…" Chris counted back. "Three months? God, has it really been that long?"

"We eat different stuff," I protested, but my heart wasn't in it.

She snorted. "Yeah, Ramen noodles and SpaghettiO's. My favorite."

"You're right. For once I'd like a nice, home-cooked meal." I sighed. "And not from some old diner guy's dead grandmother's recipe, either."

"We could do it," Chris said. "They leave us home enough. Why not cook this fancy, elaborate… thing, you know, worthy of Julia Child or, or, Beauty and the Beast?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. What would we do with it?"

"Eat it, duh."

"We couldn't cook that much and then eat it all," I pointed out. "We'd have so many leftovers – that is, if we actually had enough room in those measly little kitchens to cook it all in. Stop being unrealistic."

"Aw, come on, Kali. So we'd cook a little at a time – isn't that how the French do it? And if we have any leftovers, we give it to the boys. They'll eat anything."

"Chris, Dean would never give us the money for that kind of—of—extravagance."

"Then we get jobs! Real jobs, with real pay!" A piece of burger flew from her mouth. "Ew. Sorry."

I sighed. "Chris, I'd love to do this. You know I would. But I've been thinking about this for a while, actually."

"Really? It only just occurred to me."

"That's because you just had a real burger for the first time in months," I grinned. "I've been thinking about this since I realized we were kind of stuck here. I figured as long as staying was temporary, I could eat fast food. Now…" I shrugged.

"Kal, that was weeks ago. You didn't say anything."

"Was I supposed to?"

Chris waved her hands in the air. "I could have focused on cooking instead of annoying Dean all the time."

"Don't blame this on me, Chris," I said angrily. "You'd annoy Dean no matter what. You've had your heart set on hunting since we got here, don't say you'd give that all up for just a little food."

"That's not—" She stopped, then grabbed a carrot stick from the table beside her and put it on my plate. "Here, eat. We're starving, we're not thinking straight. Nobody ever does anything intelligent on an empty stomach."

I glanced down at the carrot stick, bemused. When I looked up, she had her mouth full on a donut hole. How come I got the carrot? "Your point?"

"I want to cook," she said simply.

"You're like a spoiled brat," I said. "I want this, I want that."

"That rhymes."

"Chris."

"Well, you're like an older sister who wants to be a killjoy all the time. And that _doesn't_ rhyme. Who says I won't give up hunting, anyway? Food's important, too." She took another donut hole to emphasize that point. "Tell you what, if I give up annoying Dean for this job and instead focus on… more… housewifely duties, so to speak, will you help me cook for the rest of the time we're here? In this world?"

I gaped at her. "Really. You won't annoy Dean."

"Nope."

"For the whole time we're here."

"Yup."

"You'll just cook?"

"Exactly."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're on."

She grinned. "But you'll have to help me after I've won."

I snorted. "You can't win this. It's impossible."

Chris shoved another donut hole in her mouth. "Watch me."

* * *

**Chris' POV**

"Man, I am stuffed." I fell into the backseat and settled into the cushions.

"That's because you ate two whole boxes of donut holes when you thought no one was looking," Kali said, rolling her eyes. "This wasn't an all-you-can-eat buffet, Chris."

I smiled to myself. "But they were _good_. Besides that, they were free," I answered. "That's, like, the same thing. Right, Dean?"

Dean groaned as he slid into the passenger seat. "Mmph. What?"

"Free food's the same as an all-you-can-eat buffet." Dean usually agreed with me on the gastronomic level. It was the one thing I could count on him for – besides being freakishly overprotective, of course.

"It is not," Sam protested, putting the keys into the ignition.

"Yes, it is, Sammy. Can't turn down free food." Dean nodded at the road. "Drive."

"Do you even know where we're going?" Sam sighed.

"Yeah," Dean said, trying to burp himself. "This way."

"Dean, we're trying to get _out_ of the neighborhood?"

"I know," he answered. "Just turn here."

It was dark out, but I could still see that the street we'd turned on to was a cul-de-sac. Sam kept grumbling to his brother, who ignored him completely. Instead, he turned back to the topic that was foremost in his mind – which wasn't, unlike mine, about food. At least, I hoped it wasn't. "You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that can make different bugs attack?"

Sam sighed. "Well, hauntings sometimes include bug manifestations…" _They do? Ew._

"Yeah, but I didn't see any evidence of ghost activity." _Oh, good._

"Yeah. Me neither." _Wait, that doesn't get rid of the bug problem..._

"Maybe they're being controlled, somehow. Like, something or someone." _That's funny, how he says "something" before he remembers that "someone" may be responsible. I have _got_ to get used to this job._

"You mean like Willard?" _Who's Willard?_

"Yeah, bugs instead of rats." _But who the hell is Willard?_

Sam nodded slowly. "There are cases…" he acknowledged grudgingly, and started saying something else, but I tuned him out.

"Kali, do you know who Willard is?" I whispered.

She sighed. "Chris, you said you wouldn't hunt this time."

"I know! They just said something about a Willard and I wanted to know what they were talking about."

"Well, I don't know, either. Stop eavesdropping." She rolled her eyes. I turned my attention back to the conversation.

"How about Timmy Lassie?"

"The _dog_?" Kali was using a tone I didn't really appreciate.

"Well, I didn't know the dog's first name was Timmy. I thought it was only Lassie."

"Chris, the dog's name is Lassie. The boy's name was Timmy. It was like the two had a special bond; Lassie'd do anything Timmy said. They're trying to figure out how the bugs can be controlled and right now they think Larry's kid, Matt, is like Timmy to bugs."

I grinned at her. "And you tell me to stop eavesdropping."

"Shut up."

We turned into a driveway and Dean got out and walked to the garage door. Sam stuck his head out the window. "We're gonna squat in an empty house?"

Dean called, "I wanna try the steam shower. Come on!"

"Ooh, perfect," I grinned.

Sam and Kali turned to look at me.

"No, no," I said quickly. "I was talking about the kitchen. Not the shower. Kitchen's perfect."

"Come on!" That was Dean. "Helloooo…"

Kali put her head in her hand. "Chris, please shut up."

"What? It's not as if they'll never figure out what we're doing." _Shit, that didn't come out right, either._

"I really hope you were serious about the kitchen," Sam muttered.

"Sam, would you get in here?" Dean called.

"Ew!" I cried. "You pervert, I was talking about cooking."

"Cooking?"

"_Yes_."

"_Sam_. Get your butt in here. Now."

Sam stuck his head out the window. "Dude!"

"Well, then, come on!"

Sam huffed and pulled in, hitting Dean in the stomach with the side-view mirror.

Kali leaned in and whispered, "I don't think that counts as 'not annoying' Dean."

I frowned. "It does too. I was talking to Sam."

She sighed. "Dean was standing out there yelling at us. He obviously wasn't _happy_."

"That was Sam annoying him by making him stand in the rain for a while. Actually, that was Dean annoying himself because all he had to do was take a step to the right and he wouldn't be getting rained on anymore."

"He was annoyed because no one was listening to him."

"Well, then, he needs to loosen up. And I think you're making him a _tad_ more sentimental than he really is. Why can't I just say he's an asshole and be right?"

"Because he's not, okay? He hates it when his younger brother completely ignores him like that. Some of us actually know what that's like."

I rolled my eyes. There she went again with the "I'm the older sibling so I must be right" crap. "Yeah, well, the rest of us know what it's like to be totally ignored for reasons that aren't even existent! Sam accidentally ignored him because he was distracted for thirty seconds. Dean's a prick because he's been purposely ignoring me for months."

She sighed and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

"Chris," Sam said.

"Don't start," I interrupted. "I think I just made a promise I can't keep."

"And that's bothering you?" He sounded skeptical.

"Some things do," I replied sarcastically. Then I shrugged. "To be honest, it was more of a bet."

"Oh." He shook his head and got out of the car.

"Tell me, will Dean mind very much if I ask him to go shopping tonight?"

He opened my door. "'S the Pope Catholic?"

I sighed and got out. "If I made a promise not to annoy Dean, but made it in the context that I wouldn't bother him about hunting, do you think Kali'd call a foul if I annoyed him to keep the other part of the deal? Like I couldn't do one without the other?"

Sam handed me my duffel bag. "What?"

"Let's say I made a deal with Kali that I wouldn't annoy Dean about hunting if I concentrated instead on doing something else… like, um, cooking. But I can't cook if I don't have anything to cook _with_… but I also can't annoy Dean for pots and pans and stuff because that would be welching on my deal – but I kind of _have_ to do that so I can focus on cooking and not annoy him _later_." I looked up at Sam. "Can I say that I only meant 'not annoying Dean about hunting?'"

He stared at me. "When do you have time to get into this kind of stuff?"

I shrugged and sighed. "It's easy. Just stop using your brain for two seconds. When it starts working again use it to weasel your way out." Was it bad that I could annoy _myself_ with my own stupidity?

Sam smiled. "I wouldn't worry, if I were you. Dean probably got rid of the air mattresses we used to have when I was in high school. I hated squatting."

I looked at him.

"We'll have to buy new ones," he explained, smiling. "You should go with him and get him to buy you cooking supplies then."

"Sam, you're a genius," I grinned. "Thank you."

"No problem. I know you hate asking him for stuff."

"You got that right." I smiled grimly. "Now all I get to worry about is how I'm going to deal with him in the store."

* * *

"Sammy, you little wuss. Can't even sleep on a clean floor," Dean muttered as he drove down the highway back to the house.

I eyed him warily. He didn't seem to be feeling any better about the shopping trip, even though we'd already bought everything (including a camping set of cooking pans) and there wasn't much we could do about it now. I had been slightly uncomfortable during the ride over, but so far he hadn't blown up at me.

Yet.

Kali was also unhappy that I'd somehow (in her view) manipulated Sam into taking the blame for this, too. As far as I was concerned, Sam had volunteered – and I had let him. He'd been right about my aversion to asking Dean for anything. It shouldn't have bothered me, but my attention seemed to be caught on the fact that he could read me well enough to know that about me. It was… interesting.

I also couldn't get over the fact that he'd not only opened my door for me but also handed me my bag. Usually I was out of the car first, so I had no idea that's what he'd do if I lingered – maybe I should do it more often.

_No. Shut up, Chris. Even you have standards. _

I heaved a sigh and leaned my head back on the seat.

"You all right?" Dean glanced at me.

"Yeahfine," I mumbled quickly. Then I sighed again.

Dean dropped his shoulders. "Honestly."

"Is it really that easy to annoy you? All I gotta to do is sigh?" _Jesus, if I _breathe_ wrong he's ready to bite my head off._

"You sound like Sam when he's got something on his mind."

I blinked, the gears in my head still shifting from Sam to Dean and then back to Sam. "He does sigh a lot."

Dean smirked. "I think Kali calls it 'huffing.'"

_She would_. "Yeah, he does. Huff, I mean." I grinned. "They all mean something different, too. There's the 'thoughtful huff' and the 'tired huff.' Usually there's the 'mildly annoyed huff' – which can easily be confused with the 'Dean huff,' except he has more practice with that one, so he's better at it."

Dean chuckled. "Don't worry, he's getting his practice with the 'mildly annoyed huff' from you."

"Poor Sam," I giggled. "So many emotions, only one way to express them. I wonder if he ever confuses himself."

He snorted.

"It's like he'll huff, and he'll puff, and then he'll…"

"Give you his puppy dog eyes and you'll have to let him in," Dean interrupted.

I laughed.

"You know, for someone who has such a big crush on him, you're pretty harsh."

"Yeah, well, I'm harsh on everybody," I said without thinking. "I mean – _What?_"

"I knew it!" Dean grinned.

"Oh… _Fuck_," I muttered, and slid down in my seat, arms crossed.

Dean glanced at me a few times. "So what, you're not gonna ask how I knew?"he said finally, sounding disappointed.

"And give you time to gloat? I think not."

"I think it was when I looked in the rearview mirror the other day and saw you giving Lori a death glare. That kind of confirmed it. And the fact that you've never really warmed up to me." He smirked.

I shuddered. "You really are disgusting, you know that? And how come I have to like Sam just because I don't like you? That's pretty egotistical, even if it is on your brother's part."

"You should make a move on him."

I opened my mouth, completely dumbstruck. "Why the hell would I do that?" I asked.

"Because you like him."

He suggested it like "making a move" was the most obvious reaction in the world. I couldn't begin to understand confidence like that. "Yeah, well, he doesn't like me back. That's sometimes a problem in relationships."

"What are you talking about? Sam loves you."

"Dean."

He sighed. "All right, so maybe not right this second, but you're totally his type."

"_Dean_. No I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're smart and funny –"

"I'm stupid and impulsive. I'm unbelievably annoying; I complain about everything; I'm rude and obnoxious and completely antisocial – I'm such a sloth that if I didn't have Kali I probably wouldn't even get out of bed to feed myself before lunch. I'm like this… lazy, gluttonous…" _Inter-dimensional, time-traveling…_ "Freak."

"Whoa," Dean said, staring at me. "Dude, Chris. Really?"

I looked back at him and shrugged. "It's true."

He turned his eyes back to the road. "Damn."

"Well, I figure if I'm going to judge everyone, why make any exceptions?" I gave a wry smile.

Dean nodded. I watched the windshield wipers for a while, glad for the silence. I didn't want to talk about this, especially with Dean. I hated even thinking about it – having your insides feel like they're trying to twist themselves into pretzels was never my idea of fun.

"You make him laugh," Dean said suddenly.

"What?"

"I try all the time. Sometimes it works, but most of the time I just get the Dean huff."

My mouth twisted in bemusement. "What is that, an actual term now?"

"Chris, I'm serious." He looked at me. "I remember when Dad started hunting. Sam'd always go all quiet when he left, so I'd do my best to get him to laugh, or smile, you know? Just something. And then Dad would come back and Sammy'd brighten up again, like he was the only person in the world worth smiling for. And Dad knew it, too. He'd get all tired and worn from these hunts, and he'd stumble in through the doorway like he'd just been dragged through hell… and the first thing he'd do was go see Sammy. And once he saw Sam smile at him, he'd… stand a little straighter. You know. Walk a little taller. So I tried to be like that. I figured if one little smile from Sammy could get Dad through the day, then the same could go for me. Just one smile. And I've been trying ever since."

I stared at the windshield, unwilling to even glance his way. This was a window into Dean I'd never looked through before. It was…creepy. I preferred thinking of him as the asshole I loved to hate. It was so much easier than listening to him confess that his brother was this important to him. It made him almost human.

"And when Sam grew up and started fighting with Dad, I was the only one who could make them both smile again."

Well, how was I supposed to respond to that? I felt like he'd just poured out his soul to me and now expected it to be put back all nice and neat. Damn Winchesters – I had enough trouble dealing with my own feelings without taking theirs into consideration. Whoever asked for their opinions anyway? I shivered and pulled my legs up, hugging my knees close. This was going to take some getting used to.

"Hey." Dean glanced over and tapped my leg warningly. "No shoes on the upholstery."

I took them down and smirked. "Way to kill the mood, Dean."

"Yeah, well, it was getting uncomfortable in here anyway."

I let my breath out and gazed at the window.

"But you do make him smile, though." He looked at me sidewise.

I nodded, watching raindrops. "I try."

* * *

**A/N: Woohoo! Finally, another chapter! I (Norangutan) actually worked crazy hard on this one, and I think I did well. Of course, I wrote that bit about Dean and Sammy's smiles before I watched last night's episode (Good God, Y'all) - I don't think I could have written that afterwards. Those boys have changed so much! I can't believe what Kripke's doing. He's going to owe me so much for emotional trauma by the end of Season 5. Ugh. Oh, yeah, but the chapter was awesome and you should totally say so. Or, if it wasn't, tell us what we did wrong! We'll read all the reviews and delete the ones we don't like! :D Over to you, S-E-K.  
S-E-K: ****Yeah, last night's episode was depressing, but incredibly awesome at the same time because some excellent characters from two to three seasons ago have come BACK! Yay! Yeah, we're pretty happy we've started writing the Bugs episode, because the dark shapeshifter stuff was getting old. Now the fun begins! Yay! We're still having fun writing this story, and would still appreciate 'll update the next chapter when we can. One of us has just started college and the other is getting ready to go to college… so we're busy. No promises, other than we'll update… eventually. Thanks for reading!**

Norangutan: ignore the pleas for reviews if you want...but rest assured, we will come and find you... hehehehhhh  
(S-E-K doesn't know about this little addition, so she can't tell me to shut up. XD )


	14. Creepy Crawlies

**Chapter 14 – Chris' POV**

This diary thing was getting a little too regular. Here I was again, trying not to bash my head against the wall in embarrassment and wondering what I should write down that was at once funny, interesting, and therapeutic. Thing was, this whole squatting deal wasn't really working out for me. I mean, sure I complained about motel rooms a lot, but I had to admit – they did afford me a little more privacy than this house. Not that I had to worry about Kali or Sam poking into my business, of course. It was Dean I had to get away from.

Dean was being unbearable. Part of this session was going to be devoted to the fact that, despite the talk we'd had last night, Dean was still annoying the hell out of me. Unfortunately, the man was just at good at irritating people as I was. Instead of completely ignoring me as he had been for the last few months, now he was constantly and mercilessly teasing me about Sam. Kali might have thought he'd been treating her as a little sister, but the way Dean was carrying on, I felt like I'd just been adopted into the family.

Which was… strange.

"Hey. What 'cha doing?" Kali poked her head around the closet door.

I jumped. "Uh…"

"Are you writing in your diary in a closet?"

I glanced at the notebook in my lap. "Yes?"

"You're so weird." She slid both doors aside and sat down.

"I was hiding from Dean," I explained, putting my supplies behind my back. "He won't… _stop_."

Kali looked at me. "Yeah, I know. Seriously, what did you talk about last night? I mean, I went to sleep and you were at each other's throats, the way you always are. When I woke up, he won't stop grinning at you. Like you're his new favorite pet, or something."

"It's a smirk, actually. He knows he has leverage," I muttered.

"Huh?"

"He knows about Sam," I said tiredly.

"What?" She smiled slowly, the words sinking in. "You told him?"

"No! He guessed it himself."

"Why hasn't he told Sam yet?"

I sighed. "Because I made him promise not to."

"How the hell did you manage that?" She was still grinning.

"I honestly have no idea. I think it had something to do with me promising that that _I'd_ tell Sam. Myself." I shook my head. I'd been desperate, and would have promised anything at that point.

"And when are you going to do that?" Now she sounded skeptical.

"If everything goes the way I want it to, never."

She snorted. "Well, that would explain why he's been messing with you all day. Like when he announced this morning that it was especially sweet of you to cook Sam's eggs first."

I looked away, feeling my face heat up.

"And I thought you'd explode when he noticed… loudly… that you were washing Sam's plate with extra care."

"I wasn't," I said disgustedly. "Really, I was about to smash it on his head."

"I'm impressed you didn't."

I shrugged. "Sam would have asked questions."

She laughed. "Was that all that stopped you?"

"Well, it _was_ his plate." I smiled.

She laughed some more. "Chris, you're so…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"I swear, if you were about to say 'You're so cute when you're in love,' I'm gonna smack you," I grumbled.

"Oh, no. Never. I was about to say that you've always been a hideous, irritable little monster no matter what mood you're in."

I considered this. "Thank you."

"And you're only happy when you're miserable." She stood up to leave, convinced this conversation couldn't go any further.

I couldn't say I blamed her. "Right."

"And I'm going back to pound on that door some more," she added.

"Exact – What?"

"Dean's been in the bathroom for, like, half an hour already. If the steam shower's all it's cracked up to be, I think I should have a turn." She left, and I heard her shout, after a few thumps on the door, "DEAN, GET YOUR SOGGY BOTTOM OUT OF THERE SO I CAN TAKE MY SHOWER!"

I grinned and started singing "Man of Constant Sorrow" just to emphasize the fact that Dean was a soggy-bottomed boy.

"Chris, shush," I heard Kali laugh.

I grinned and went back to my diary. I figured I still had another twenty minutes before Dean finally stepped out of the bathroom and I had to stop writing.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

This would be the third and final time, I promised myself. He had been in there at least an hour, which was about fifty minutes over the average time a man _needs_ to be in the bathroom. I couldn't fathom what was occupying his time, and wouldn't think past showering and shaving.

"All right, Princess, time to give the other ladies a turn!" I screamed through the door.

"A man has his needs, Kali."

"You can meet your manly needs later. I need a shower!"

There was no response, and I banged my forehead on the door.

"I will shoot this damn door down! I know where your shotguns are!"

Still no response. He was ignoring me.

"Don't make me call on Chris. I'll make her talk to you. I will!"

Nothing.

"Don't you think I won't!"

"In a minute!" he finally shouted.

With a frustrated growl I took my head away from the door and crossed my arms, glaring at the wood.

"One… two… three… four-" I started to count down the minute.

"Shut up!"

"You just counting, or you actually gonna call me out there?" Chris said from her closet.

"You should only be shaving your face, not your legs, Dean. Those gay couple remarks weren't meant to be taken seriously yesterday," I continued.

"Just give me a minute, woman!"

"I've already given you sixty, so calm down. And get out, dammit! What is taking you so long?"

He ignored me, again.

"Dean, I swear to G-"

The door finally flew open, unleashing warm air and a lot of steam, and my hair stood on end when I felt naked flesh brush past me. My head flew back a bit, as I found my face level with his chest, noting that he was in nothing but a towel (but thank God for that towel).

"Jeez, put a shirt on before you poke somebody's eye out," I said as he started to walk away.

"Heck yes! Kale!" Chris shouted humorously from her hideout.

Dean walked over to the door of the closet and peeked in, staring curiously at Chris. "What are you doing in a closet?" he asked.

"Whoa. Seriously, Dean. You're making _me_ cold," I heard her laugh, and chuckled to myself as I claimed the bathroom, not waiting to hear the end of this exchange.

* * *

**Chris' POV**

I stared up at Dean, fervently hoping that he didn't notice the notebook and pen I had hastily shoved behind my back. If he saw them, he might make a grab for them – and he was wearing only a towel around his waist. If I was uncomfortable when I felt like he was baring his soul to me, I really didn't want to know what it'd feel like to witness any physical bareness.

"You're just sitting there," he stated logically.

I nodded. "That sure is what it looks like, innit?"

"You're hiding from Sam." He looked pleased that he'd figured something out so quickly.

"Hiding. Yeah." I nodded some more, glancing upward toward the general vicinity of his face – although, in truth, somewhere a little to the left of it. Nothing below the neck…

He wouldn't stop grinning. "From Sam," he repeated, as if it held some significance.

I rolled my eyes. "Dude. You really need to put a shirt on. And pants. It'd do wonders for this conversation."

Dean smirked. "You should just tell him. Nothing'll ever happen if you don't make the first move. Sammy's kind of pathetic that way."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really," I said, relieved. "That actually makes this way easier."

"What?" He moved forward into the closet, still dripping.

"Keep your towel on, Dean. Actually, put something else on. Over it. Under it. Anything." I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

"You actually don't want anything to happen between you." Now he'd let go of his towel with one of his hands and was gesturing with it. The other, fortunately, was still doing its job by holding the towel up.

I pressed myself against the wall. "Seriously, Dean. Pants. Shirt. _Now_." I wanted to stand up and face this _mano-a-mano_, but that damned notebook was still behind me. Why couldn't I have chosen a less permanent way of expressing my screw-upped-ness? Better yet, why couldn't I not have any problems at all? Like the one right in front of me, Shirtless Wonder trying to run me down in a closet?

"You mean it, too," he said, stopping in disbelief.

"Damn straight I mean it," I replied tensely. "You're dripping on the carpet!"

"What? Oh." He paused curiously and took a few steps back. "All right. But don't think you got off that easy." He left, glancing over his shoulder with a thoughtful look on his face I didn't really like.

I leaned my head back against the wall and let out a long breath. For "getting off easy" that was pretty nerve-wracking. But what could Dean possibly do to make things any worse than they already were? I mean, I liked Sam – which was bad to start with – and now both Dean and Kali knew it. Besides, there was no way to just talk this one out. If I told Sam, there were only two directions in which this could go: he liked me, or he liked me not. If he liked me, I could end up in the screwy position of dating a co-worker, which I flat out refused to do. If – scratch that – _When_ he liked me not, there'd be one less person in this three-person world I was living in. I was stretched for contact as it was, but with 33% of my human interaction cut out – probably more, since the most "interaction" I had with Dean generally consisted of statements followed by contradictions – I would be very… unhappy.

Oh, yeah, and the fact that Sam had barely even begun to get over Jessica was probably a bigger problem than any I could make up. I mean, that didn't have anything to do with whether he was interested in me or not – he just wouldn't want to put himself through another relationship any time soon. And I couldn't do squat about that even if I wanted to.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Dean should know all that about his brother. I'd be surprised if he hadn't figured it out already. He was only messing with me, just as he'd been doing this whole morning. I could deal with that. I mean, I'd been dealing with the asshole for months now. Dean could try his worst. He couldn't break me.

That's what I had thought until I heard the ominous sound of Sam climbing up the stairs. He was headed toward the room I was in, and Dean was behind him – fully dressed and grinning. It was the grin that should have tipped me off.

"Chris? Chris, what are you doing in a closet? Dean says you have something to—oomph." Sam stumbled forward and the door closed behind him.

I jumped up and tried sliding it back. It wouldn't budge. "Dean!" I yelled, slamming my palm against the wood. "Dean, let us out!"

I heard laughter on the other side. Sam stood up beside me and called, "Dean, this isn't funny. Seriously, dude, open the door."

"Not until Chris says what she has to say."

I stared ahead, willing myself to have X-ray vision – or at least some-kind-of-ray vision that could burn the door down. "Do your worst" was a... a _rhetorical_ challenge, not an actual _contest_. And he wasn't supposed to be reading my mind anyway. Where did he come up with this shit? "Let us out. I don't _have_ anything to say."

"That's not what I heard."

I let my head rest against the door and closed my eyes, praying for patience (and deliverance).

"Yeah? So what did you hear?" That was Sam.

"Ask Chris!" He was smirking at us. I knew it. I could _hear_ it in his _voice_. It made me want to punch his face (or a baby, since some sounds apparently do that).

"Chris?" I felt, rather than saw (my eyes hadn't gotten used to the dark) Sam look down. "Anything you want to say to me?"

"Your brother's a dick?" I mumbled against the door.

Sam laughed a little. "Anything you want to say to me that I don't already know?"

"Hey!"

"Not really," I said flatly.

"You'll be stuck there forever unless you tell him," Dean taunted from the other side.

Sam sighed. "Apparently he thinks you're lying."

"Well, he's wrong," I muttered stubbornly.

"But he's right about being able to keep us here until you spill," he pointed out.

"Yup!"

My mind threw out every curse known to man, yet still couldn't fully encompass the rage I was feeling at that moment. There was only one way I could deal with this. I sighed and sat back down, running a hand through my hair. "Well, it's sort of embarrassing."

"Don't worry." I heard Sam sit down with me. In fact, it suddenly got very quiet on the outside, too.

"And it's… kind of…Well, really, actually…Really personal."

"You can trust me."

"And I'm not sure if things will ever be the same for you or me once it's out," I said carefully.

"Chris. Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

I swallowed and took a deep breath. There was silence, both inside the closet and in the room beyond. This was it.

"Dean's gay."

"What!" The outburst from the other side of the closet door was worth the awkwardness that had finally dispersed on this side. Sam and I laughed. "That is not what you said you'd tell him."

I snorted. "I didn't say I'd tell him anything, stupid. Besides, it's true."

"Is not."

"Yeah? How 'bout you open the door and prove it?" I said, an attempt I knew wouldn't work – but it was worth a try anyway.

"How 'bout you just spit it out already," Dean muttered.

"Really, Chris. What is it?" Sam asked once he had realized his brother wasn't opening the door any time soon.

"Nothing, really. Nothing important. Dean's just being an idiot again," I lied.

"Well, you'd better think of something that'll satisfy him, 'cause he seems pretty intent on keeping this door locked until you do," he huffed, and leaned his head back against the wall. I could see part of his face from the light coming through the doorframe.

I looked away. "Yeah."

Nobody said anything for a while.

"Is it something about me?" he asked suddenly.

"W – oh. Um, yeah. Sort of." _Half of_, I corrected silently.

"Something bad?"

"What? No! No, of course not," I scoffed. "Sam, come on. You think we'd still be in here if I just wanted to insult you?"

He smiled. "Maybe."

_Ugh, he was so _nice_._ "Well, it's not. Anything bad, I mean."

Dean snorted. "You got that right."

"You wanna keep out of this, dipstick?" I called angrily.

"Not really."

I groaned and put my head back heavily. How did that letter from _The Little Rascals_ go again? _Dear Dean, I hate your stinking guts… _

"Do you think it's ironic that we only get to come out of the closet _after_ Dean admits he's gay?" I mused darkly. "Sounds kind of backwards."

"We'd be out of here a lot sooner if you'd just say what's really going on here," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I have things I should be able to keep to myself, just like anyone else," I reasoned.

"Fair enough."

I sighed, wondering how long it would take for Dean to get tired of this and just unlock the stupid door. Maybe I could wait for Kali to get out of the shower – but, knowing her, she'd probably support this kind of thing. She might not help at all. I hung my head, staring down at the floor between my knees.

And that's when I saw the spider.

Now, I generally don't have anything against spiders, except for the fact that they are malicious, evil bugs with too many legs and beady, black eyes and an inordinate love of killing people and wrapping them up in their disgusting, sticky webs and sucking them dry through those vile little pincers.

Okay, so I have a lot against spiders. I hate them. Especially the big ones, which this one was. Seeing it in the closet I was locked in (read: had no escape from) really didn't make things any better. What made everything worse was the fact that once I stood up and brushed myself off, I noticed that the floor of the closet had one of those grate things for air conditioning – and that another two spiders had just crept out from between the metal flaps.

"Chris? You all right?" Sam stood up, too, and glanced behind me. "Ugh. Spiders."

"Um. Yeah. About that…" I grabbed my notebook and dropped it on the grate, hoping half-heartedly that it would stop them from coming out.

It didn't. Even more spiders crawled out from under the papers – not one or two or three, but a whole dozen, one after another until I stopped trying to count. I considered standing on it, thinking my weight would at least keep the notebook firmly on the grate, but then my brain offered up this horrid image of me being lifted by a whole army of legs and eyes and pincers, complete with horrible, screeching sound effects and music with too many violins in it. I shivered and backed away slowly.

Sam snorted. "Here, want to switch? It's closer to the door." He pressed himself against the wall so that I could squeeze past him into the crack of light coming from the doorframe.

I glanced at him gratefully (pun not intended). "Thanks." _Dude, Chris, come on._ _They're just spiders, all right? Breathe. They're just a couple of bugs._

In an town where some beetles chewed a guy's brains out. Right.

"Dean?" I said, my voice wavering with the effort to keep calm. "Dean, there's a spider in here…"

"That's nice, Chris," he replied sarcastically.

"No, seriously. Like, a _big_ spider." _Lots of big spiders._

"Chris, stop messing around. Dean, there's a lot of spiders in here. It's gotta be Willard again."

If mentioning the job didn't get Dean to open the door, nothing would. I turned around to pick my notebook up, but the fact that spiders were now streaming out of the air vent and up the walls stayed my hand. I opened my mouth to scream, but caught myself. _Not in front of Sam, you retard_, I thought savagely, and clamped my lips together. Instead, I started hammering on the door. "Dean, please. Get us out of here and hunt already!"

"Come on, Chris. Just three little words. You can do it."

My voice broke. "You little fucker!"

"Three _nice_ words."

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

They were crawling along the wall next to me, now. I gave up being scared for my notebook and instead made a grab for it, shaking a few spiders off the bottom. One dropped from a web it had started on the spiral. I almost threw the diary against the opposite wall in fright, but instead hugged it to my chest (after making absolutely sure there were no more bugs on it, of course).

"_Chris_. Leave the book." An arm pulled me back by my shoulders, and for once I didn't shrug it off. Asking me to choose between huge, hairy arachnids and a hug from Sam was like asking a starving man to choose between more desert and Thanksgiving. Latter, _please_.

I looked up at him, slightly giddy. "Do you think the evil black spiders will go after the short one and leave Sam to go on by himself?" A part of my brain recognized hysteria when it saw it. It was quickly told to shut up by the other, less rational 99%.

Sam glanced down, confused by the question, and continued to pound on the door. "DEAN!"

Dean didn't answer. I began to give up hope.

Then I heard Kali get out of the shower.

* * *

**Kali's POV**

I picked up my towel and shook it out, a habit after one too many encounters with creepy crawlies, and started drying my hair before wrapping it around my head. After brushing my teeth I reached for my underwear and slipped it on, but stopped in my tracks when I saw a rather large spider resting formidably on my bra. My skin crawled at the thought it could have been in my underwear, and suddenly I felt sheepish. I wasn't one to be terribly frightened of spiders, but when they decide to get into my personal space I get just a little squeamish.

"Come on," I muttered to myself, annoyed that this was happening to _me_ out of all the people who had used this bathroom. Slowly I moved forward, reaching my hand out for the strap to hopefully shake the spider off, but it moved and I swear it was looking straight at me. My mind shot to a scene I saw in a movie called _Arachnophobia_, with an insanely smart and deadly spider literally facing off a full-grown man, and I cringed and pulled my hand back, half expecting the thing to jump at me. Then I saw another spider creep out from under the toilet seat, and that was enough for me. I would get another set of clothes from downstairs.

Taking the towel out of my hair, I wrapped it around my body and tucked it, walking out of the bathroom. Instantly my ears were met with dull thumping and muffled shouts, and I looked down the hallway to see Dean leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smiling absurdly at the closet door I had previously seen Chris behind. Rolling my eyes at the childishness of what obviously occurred, I started approaching the scene, quickly drawing Dean's attention.

"Okay, Puck, what have you done this time?"

"Yeah, you little fuck, tell her what you've done!" Chris's voice yelled from inside the closet, and I glared in her direction at the misinterpretation.

"Dean, seriously!" Another voice suddenly made itself heard, and I narrowed my eyes again at a still-smiling Dean.

"You locked Chris and Sam in a closet," I said flatly, and he just shrugged like it was obvious. "How did you do that?" I asked with honest curiosity.

"Kali, stop wasting time!" Chris hadn't stopped hammering on the door. She actually sounded really scared.

"Say 'please,'" Dean grinned.

"_Kali!_" In fact, it was more like desperate.

"Dean, stop it and let us out," Sam called.

Dean rolled his eyes and remained where he stood. "All right, Sammy."

"Dean, I'm being serious!"

"Open the damn door!" Chris screamed, the banging more insistent.

I had had enough, and gave Dean a fierce punch on the arm before reaching for the handle. The second the door opened I was forced back against the wall, and looked down to see Chris wrapping her arms around me. I panicked when I felt the towel begin to slip. "Chris! Get off me!"

Her face scrunched up in disgust and she shot back, staring at me wide-eyed while I hastily tucked the towel back. "Why are you all naked?" she asked, but our attention was quickly stolen away by the moving floor. We looked down and immediately I scrambled carefully backwards to avoid the swarm of spiders that were crawling out of the closet.

"Get out of the house!" Dean yelled, and I felt myself being tugged by the forearm. Chris apparently didn't need telling twice, considering she was down the stairs before I'd even realized that Dean had grabbed my arm and was dragging me along behind him.

"Wait!" I said, jerking my hand away. "I'm not going outside! I'm naked!" I tried to at least go back for a t-shirt, but was pushed forward anyway by Sam.

"Yes, you are. Come on."

Before I knew it we were in the Impala and driving down the road, trying to figure out what to do next. I was sitting grumpily in the backseat with my legs crossed, still in a towel, trying to keep as much of me covered as possible and not moving more than absolutely necessary. Whenever we turned a corner I would grimace and lift myself off the seat, my skin sticking to the leather.

"This is so uncomfortable," I groaned.

"You want my jacket?" Dean offered from the driver's seat, looking at me in the mirror.

"No, I want my clothes," I spat, and he just smirked. I was mad at him. Not that this was really his fault, but he was being a dick with the closet thing so I was taking it out on him. I leaned over to Chris and whispered, "Chris, gimme your hoodie."

"What? Why mine?"

"Just give me your damn hoodie."

Grudgingly she took her sweatshirt off and handed it to me. "Try not to get too much of your nakedness on it."

"Suck it up," I muttered, zipping it closed.

"Why didn't you? I don't see why you get to be naked in my hoodie and I have to freeze."

"You wanna trade then?" I asked, giving her a sinister look.

"No…" she replied, crossing her arms and looking the other way. I rolled my eyes and ignored her, focusing instead on the brothers up front, who were having a discussion in similar tones.

"Well, like I was trying to tell you before you locked me in a closet, a call came on the police scanner saying there was a death about three blocks from here," Sam said.

"So what? More bugs?"

"Maybe. After all those spiders I wouldn't be surprised."

"All right then, we'll check it out."

"Hello, I still have no clothes here," I added, knowing that a death meant lots of policemen, paramedics, and curious onlookers.

"We'll get your clothes, Kali. We have to go back for our stuff sometime," Dean responded, and I scowled at the back of his head because I knew he was smirking again. Then it started to rain, and I zipped Chris's hoodie up all the way and pulled the towel down more so that it separated my bare legs from the seat. It wasn't long before flashing lights appeared in the distance, and Dean pulled over next to the house where all the emergency personnel were bustling.

"Chris, there should be some umbrellas under your seat," Sam said, facing her, and silently (probably still incredibly pissed about the closet thing) she reached under and pulled them out, handing one to Sam and jabbing Dean hard in the shoulder with the other to get his attention.

"Ow!" he hissed, facing her and rubbing his shoulder. She gave a fake smile and leaned back in her seat after he jerked the umbrella out of her hands. "Just stay in the car. We'll be back."

The brothers got out, and for a moment there was silence, except for the patter of rain on the windows.

"Stupid Dean," Chris eventually muttered.

"I hear ya," I replied.

"He locked me in a fucking closet."

"I know," I said, rolling my eyes.

"With Sam!"

"I get it, Chris." I had my own problems to deal with.

"He made you go outside in nothing but a towel."

"You think I haven't noticed?" I snapped.

"…You're getting my hoodie all wet," she muttered finally.

"Chris, shut up."

It took a very long time for Sam and Dean to come back, maybe thirty minutes or so. I wondered what the hell they were doing, and tried to look for them out the window but couldn't identify any familiar shapes through the rain. Eventually the car doors opened and they slipped back in, Dean cranking up the Impala.

"Where were you?" I asked.

"We had to sneak into the house," Sam replied. "And it was spiders."

"They killed her?" Chris shuddered.

"Yep. Now we gotta go find spider-boy," Dean said.

"Matt," Sam corrected.

"Can we please get my clothes first?"

"Might as well. Kid won't be back from school for a few hours."

"Thank you," I mumbled.

We went back to the house and gathered our stuff, thoroughly shaking everything out to avoid future surprises. I finally got clothed, and after a couple of hours we were back in the Impala, parked in front of a bus stop and waiting for some kid to get off.

"This is slightly stalkerish," I decided to add to the silence, and got nothing but a side-glance from Dean. Soon enough the school bus came, and our Willard stepped off and started crossing the street.

"Isn't his house that way?"

"Yeah."

"So where's he going?"

Sam got out of the car, followed by Dean. I opened my door automatically and glanced at Chris, who was sitting in the backseat quietly. "Chris?"

"What is he getting at?" she asked.

I looked over my shoulder at the brothers, who were following Matt into the woods, and realized that for the first time, Dean didn't tell us to stay put. "Chris, come on. This won't mess up your deal, all right? Dean's practically inviting you."

"Yeah, that's what bothers me." She got out anyway.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dude, think about it. He's all but killed us to keep us from hunting, and now he's, as you said, 'practically inviting' us?"

I frowned. "Look, just come along, all right?"

She shook her head. "All right," she muttered. "I beg and plead and bitch and he totally ignores me, but when I try something else, there's nothing stopping him from dragging me wherever he wants to go. Fine."

"Chris, please," I said, jogging toward the forest Sam and Dean had disappeared into. "He's just trying to screw with your head."

"You got that right," she replied darkly. "Just make sure you tell him _he's_ the one being flakey now. Not me. I'm being stubborn."

I smiled. "Oh, believe me, he knows you're stubborn."

"How the hell can I be stubborn and flakey at the same time? The terms are completely incompatible."

"Wait a minute, I don't remember him ever calling you 'flakey,'" I said, stopping. "Not to your face, at least."

She gave me a look. "Not in front of your face, maybe, but yes, he did call me 'flakey' to mine."

"Hm," I frowned. "Oh, wait, is this that talk you had back in St. Louis? With the shotgun?"

"Uh… Yeah, I think it was. How did you know that?" She started jogging down the path again.

I shrugged and followed along. "That was the last talk you had where he was willing to say what he really thought of you."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "You're mean."

I grinned. "You're welcome."

We arrived behind Dean and Sam right as Matt noticed us behind him. He had a giant stick bug on his hand and was about to put it in a clear plastic box.

"Hey, Matt. Remember me?" Sam said, somehow managing to make it sound non-threatening.

"What're you doing out here?" Matt asked.

"Well, we wanna talk to you," Dean answered, and managed to make it sound extremely threatening.

"You're not here to buy a house, are you."

"No, we're here to ask you what the hell you've been feeding the spiders. And the beetles. And any other bugs you may know of, including, but not limited to, stick bugs. Answer us now or we'll stand in this forest full of insects and hope you don't send more spiders after us," Chris muttered beside me.

"Stop being so optimistic," I whispered back.

"I'm just saying. What do we do if we make him mad? It's not as if we can run anywhere. Have you _seen_ Jumanji? Those plants took over the whole town! Well, practically."

"I've seen Jumanji. That was just Mother Nature according to an evil board game," I hissed, trying to keep track of both conversations at once. "Matt's not a board game."

"_Arachnophobia_, then. _Eight Legged Freaks_." She raised her eyebrows pointedly. "_Harry Potter_."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Chris, none of those bugs were actively controlled."

"_The Mummy_."

I sighed. "Does he look like an undead Egyptian king to you?"

"He controls bugs with his _mind_. He could be anything. I mean, listen to him! He thought a _tarantula_ would be _funny_. Who thinks that?"

"Well, people who think it's funny when people freak out over bugs, for one," I answered. "Hey, they're moving again. Come on."

"Yeah? Well, people who do that are mean. Tarantulas are scary." Chris trudged along beside me and shivered. I sneered and we walked in silence for a few seconds.

"Oh my god!" I suddenly shouted, shaking her violently. She jumped maybe two feet off the ground and I started laughing, walking very fast to catch up with Sam and Dean to avoid a swift punch in the shoulder.

"—Kali!" She stuttered. "You bitch!"

"La la la!" I chanted, still giggling when I stopped directly behind Sam, watching my back. Chris looked vengeful, and I promptly went around Sam to put him between us, knowing Chris wouldn't run circles around him even if she wanted to. Sam just looked down at me curiously, and I smiled innocently, putting my hands in my jacket pockets.

"Sam, punch her for me?" I heard Chris say on the other side.

"What?" He seemed taken off guard, having been paying too close attention to his conversation with Willard up ahead. I shifted over to smile mockingly at Chris, but managed to trip over a tree root and have myself stabled by Sam's hand grasping the back of my jacket.

"Haha, smooth, Kali. You should watch where you're going. Oh, speaking of, I have a question," she added to Sam. "Why are we following the kid? I thought we didn't trust anyone nicknamed Willard." She peered ahead at the boy leading us through the trees.

"He's going to show us something. He says the bugs are acting weird."

"_Really_. I thought we'd figured that one out in the closet," she said under her breath.

"Bet that's not the only thing you figured out," I smirked, taking care to stay in front of Sam, but I don't think she heard me. Willard – or Matt – led us deeper into the forest, finally stopping at the edge of a clearing. It was practically a perfect circle, which was weird enough, but the especially strange thing was the sound of buzzing. There were bugs swarming everywhere.

"I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um… part of an AP science class," he explained.

Chris made a face. I agreed. Science was never my thing.

"You two are like peas in a pod," Dean grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes. "What's been happening?"

"A lot," Matt said worriedly. "From bees to earthworms… beetles, you name it. It's like they're congregating here."

"Why?" Dean asked the million dollar question.

Matt shrugged. "I don't know."

"How about the big pile of dirt in the middle?" I asked, gesturing at the clearing.

He shrugged again. "Don't know that, either. Like I said, it's been weird."

Dean pushed through us. "Well, then, let's check it out."

I let them pass me, not too eager to step into another unnatural circle of weirdness with something even weirder smack down in the center of it. Things like that tended to be my curse, if only for the one time I twisted my ankle, hit my head, and ended up in Colorado with a man-eating monster outside my tent. I opted instead to walk with Chris, and regretted it later, as she immediately punched me.

"That's for trying to scare me."

I rubbed my arm. "I didn't try. I succeeded."

She punched me again.

"Hey!" I said, putting my hand back. "An eye or an eye!"

"That was for hiding behind Sam."

"All's fair in love and war."

"Keep that attitude up and I'll punch you a third time," she glowered.

I sighed, noting that at least one of the brothers could use a far better attitude check than me. "How about we focus on something else?" I suggested, pointing to Dean, who was walking up to the mound. "Like, the topic at hand?"

She watched him skeptically. "You mean the disgusting pile of worms and weirdness? No, actually, I would much rather not focus on – Is he putting his _hand_ in there?"

My head shot around to see Dean crouching low at the top of the hill. I moved to the side to get a better view. "No, he's just poking around with a stick," I said, relieved. "He's not that stupid."

Chris stood next to me to watch. "Um," she said, after a few moments. "Yeah, he is."

"Dean!" I exclaimed, the horrible image of his arm being sucked down through the open mouth of a giant man-eating worm popping into my head. I'd seen too many movies. They were making me paranoid.

"Something's down there," he called back.

"So you're putting your hand in to feed it?"

"Are you volunteering?" He looked at me.

"No, but Chris is – Ow! Quit punching me." I held my shoulder again. It was the same place on the same arm, and it was starting to smart a little.

"Quit volunteering me for death!"

"You can't 'volunteer for death,'" I protested. "That's stupid."

"Dean does it all the time. Take now, for example."

There was a moment of silence as we started ignoring each other, and I noticed that Matt was staring.

"What's up, kid?" I said casually, nodding my head.

"You guys are all… together?" he asked cautiously, and I decided this was time to end the homosexual misinterpretation streak.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Dumbass over there is my boyfriend." I nodded to Dean, still crouching over that mound, expecting him to say something but he seemed pretty occupied. "Tall, dark, and genius is the love of her life," I then added, looking pointedly at Sam.

Chris cleared her throat, making me glance her way and smirk. Her face was screwed up into an interesting mix of disgust and consternation. And she was blushing.

"What," I asked, grinning widely. "Do you have anything to add?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I just wouldn't… call him the 'love of my life,' is all." Then she looked at Matt again and tried to backtrack. "I mean, just… Um, relationship problems. Yeah."

Like getting started? I guess that could be construed as a "relationship problem," if you really stretched. "Don't worry," I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. "You'll work around it."

She smacked it away. "Shut up. Sorry, Matt. We don't mean to unload on you like this."

Matt shook his head. "So what, you're just two couples deciding to scout out trouble in some random neighborhood?"

There was a long pause as Chris and I looked at each other before turning back to him and pretty much nodding in agreement.

"Sounds kind of weird when you put it like that, but yeah."

"We're just trying to figure out what's going on here," Sam added, giving both of us a look telling us to shut up about personal business, then turned back to his brother. "Dean, we're going to need to dig some more."

"Why?" I asked.

"To see how many more of these are down there," Dean answered, turning around and showing me what he was holding in his hand. It was a skull. A real, honest-to-god human skull.

I took a step back. "I volunteer Chris."

Dean grinned. "I volunteer Chris, too."

Chris gave me a look and hissed, "Would you stop that?"

"Sam?" I inquired.

"Let's just get this done, guys." He sighed exasperatedly, getting down to start picking out whatever remains he could find.

"Fine," Chris said, climbing up the mound and standing next to the brothers. "Just know that if we find any board games or strips of ancient Egyptian toilet paper, I am not sticking around."

* * *

**A/N: Again, apologies for the late update. I suppose you can just expect that from now on, so I won't apologize anymore because I'm warning you now, we're busy. Blame Norangutan's stupid midterms. Well, we had fun with this chapter. The house part was entertaining to write, if only because we had to figure out how to get Chris and Sam in a closet together. We knew we WANTED to get them in a closet, just for the sake of the joke, but I think our improvisation worked out in the end. Actually, a lot of this chapter consists of things we wanted to happen for the sake of the joke but didn't know how to make it happen. XD We really do talk about these things way in advance. (S-E-K out.)  
**

**Norangutan: Yes, we do. We also write these authors' notes after every episode, or something… At least, S-E-K seems to. Since her note would be over twice as long if I hadn't seen it first, I'm editing it. It happens to be a review of "The End" and "Fallen Idols." In summation:  
**

**On Hippy Cas: S-E-K hated him and wanted to hug Present Cas as soon as Dean saw him again at the end of the episode. I, on the other hand, loved seeing him smile so much… but didn't think it was worth the drugs and depression. Final Score: Hippy Cas 0; Present Cas 2**

**Dean: forced S-E-K hate Future Him in "The End," became her hero when he told Cas not to change, made her want to punch him in "Fallen Idols," but ultimately won out because she forgave him for apologizing to Sam at the end of the episode. Alternatively, I thought having Paris punch him around a bit was worth watching him be such a bunghole in the last two episodes. Dean 1; Paris 1**

**On Paris: S-E-K was immensely satisfied at the sight of Paris's bloody head rolling on the ground. However, my roommate, whose TV I depend on every Thursday, was not. Writers 2; Paris 0; Roomie 0**

**On Season 5 in general: We both love it. 5****th**** season ∞; everything else -∞**


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